100 Blue Roses
by Hese Solstis
Summary: A collection of Ichiruki AU one-shots, from gory angstiness to fluff OD. Ratings and genre vary by chapter and prompts are welcomed. Chp 6: Beyond the Land of Milk and Honey/Theirs was a land so rich and beautiful, drenched so steeply in the colour red for love and passion, blood and war. A seeress, captured willingly; a Sheik, ensnared unknowingly; let the story begin./
1. I: Angel and Demon

Title: Angel and Demon

Setting: AU

Rating: T

Summary: She was an angel, a being created from the purity of God Almighty. Demons were supposed to be the bane of her existence. So why did she sacrifice everything to save that accursed orange-haired demon anyway?

Disclaimer: Fill in the blanks- Bleach does _ belong to me. ;P

* * *

_**Angel and Demon**_

XXX

The first thing she noticed as her curved eyelashes fluttered open out of their own accord was that she was falling; slowly descending down into the realm of pitch black with no one to hold onto.

And yet, she didn't care about it. Her amethyst orbs gazed down to the unknown realm below her with an odd detachment. She saw huge-bonfire like fires burning brightly, heard the screams echoing of inhuman pain and suffering, she knew what lay in store for her as soon as she descended. Yet, she still acted or rather pretended that she didn't.

Her snow white complexion marred by the vacant expression on it, her vibrant, captivating orbs dulling by the second; she shuddered as she felt the harsh air lashing on her porcelain hair. Her long midnight strands whipped themselves against her small face.

Yet, she didn't feel afraid; pain and anxiety had left her body ever since that night instead only the cold numb sensation of being banished remained.

* * *

_ Being banished._

* * *

XXX

She chuckled bitterly at the hollow sound that resonated every time she ran her tongue over that term. She was an angel of light, a testament to the will and purity of the Gods. She should be appalled by the very notion of her being banished out of the golden shimmering gates of Heaven. The very thought of leaving the realm of eternal peace should have frightened her immensely.

She should be saddened by the news of never having the privilege of seeing the faces of her friends and family again.

That's right.

Her friends and family.

She should have so many fond memories of them, of her blood brother Renji, of her brother, Byakuya, her Captain, Ukitake. She should remember every single unspoken secret they had between themselves, every form of smile they shared, and every drop of tear they wept together.

But, there wasn't.

All that remained of her memory of them was an empty vessel sporting a stranger's face, like broken fragments of a spoilt china set, pieces of an incomplete jigsaw puzzle that were doomed to remain incomplete forever.

She could try as hard as she want, plead as hard as she could, but they would never be the same again, things would never go back to the way they used to be.

* * *

_The way everything used to be before she met that accursed Ryoka._

* * *

XXX

The insistent pain behind her served as a painful reminder of what she used to be. She didn't need to look at them to know that her wings are already torn and bloodied. She winced slightly at the pain.

How she wished she could spread them open and feel the sheer weight of a single feather on her palm, but her realistic mind told her to cast that fantasy away. The dream of her ever soaring in the sky again would from now on forever linger in her mind like a surreal fantasy. One she would dream of at night, but feel nothing but shattering disappointment in the morning.

Droplets of crimson blood spewed from her bloodied wings onto her hands. She clenched her little fist hard against her pristine white gown that was now decorated by the undeniable evidence of blood.

* * *

_Why?_

* * *

XXX

Why wasn't she feeling any form of remorse?

Why did this hollow, aching presence continued to exist within her?

Why does that hideous image of _him_ still lingering on her mind when she had tried so hard to suppress and bury it?

She shut her weary eyes. It didn't matter. In a few moments time, all of her pain and suffering would end. Resistance was futile any way. There was no way her petite frame would survive the fall. Not a single chance in bloody hell. Hell was where she was heading.

She was now a creature of the damned, destined to forever wander along its fiery pits alone.

It would have been a blessing for her to simply die.

A sad smile came to play upon her lips as she found herself once again reminiscing. She remembered their first encounter vividly.

All too well to point of it being painful.

It wasn't love at first sight.

He was just lying there in a crumpled form on the hard pavement when she found him. His skin was oozing with blood, his face bruised and bloodied. Scores of scars littered themselves carelessly upon his toned upper torso. The wounds hurt him to the point of him being unable to move, but yet he kept his malicious specks of golden yellow focused on her, daring her to take his life.

In short, he looked every inch like what a high ranked demon of his kind should look like. Fearless even during their most vulnerable moments. Even then, with her limited medical experience, she could tell he was injured badly.

It would have been easier to simply leave him there and let him live out the remainder of his pitiful existence.

* * *

_So why didn't she leave him to die?_

* * *

XXX

The question constantly haunted her mind. Demons were the bane of their lives, the thorn in their flesh, their sworn enemy. Why did she risk every single grain of light within her limited existence to save him? Why did she pull out all the stops for a single stranger she had never even met before?

The other light beings sneered at her stupidity.

They called her a fool, nothing but a sentimental fool who made the wrong decision, who underestimated the power of the tainted ones.

They see her as the defiled creature that soiled the good name of the Kuchikis by offering herself to a demon.

They pleaded her to listen, to rationalize, to think.

They told her that it wasn't real. They tell her she was being tricked, enchanted, and disillusioned.

The demon was preying on her naivety and innocence. The demon was tempting her into spiraling down the abyss of eternal darkness with him. Yet, she didn't care, nor did she pay heed to their lectures.

They tell her that she had lost her mind. The demon had poisoned her mind, made her lost her will to live, to believe in the light.

She was a fool blinded by what she thought was love. The thought of a mere child like her who hadn't even passed their first millenium would comprehend the meaning of love was hopelessly ridiculous in the eyes of many.

Her actions were made to be an example of what her kind should never again commit. Like the broken and blood-stained wings behind her, her very essence of purity had been tainted. And for that, she was no longer tolerated amongst the pure.

Her tainted presence darkens even the brightest of stars. Surely, the punishment for such a filthy creature was for it to be banished and thrown out of the abode of eternal peace and tranquility.

* * *

_What I thought was love…_

* * *

XXX

No, they were wrong. She shut her eyes and drew in a sharp intake of breath as bittersweet memories of them assaulted her mind.

She knew it was love from the way his golden specks that usually seemed so dark and cold revert back to their usual shade of warm amber every time he sees her.

She knew it was love from the way his lips would curl into that familiar yet breathtakingly handsome crooked smile every time she smiles at him.

She could tell what he's thinking just by a simple glance. She knew that he meant every word when he whispered the three magical words into her ear shyly.

She knew that while others see him as a monster, warrior and murderer, none of those opinions mattered because they weren't hers. She knew that she loved him.

Perhaps, she really was an idiot, but she blamed him for that.

Somehow he had taken up all the remaining recesses in her mind, secretly replacing every old memory she had with others, until all that she could think about was him. His musky scent that smelt faintly of cinnamon lingering on her, his feather-light touches arousing her, his warm honey-amber eyes believing her.

He was a thief who kept stealing chip after chip of her heart until it became his; in his presence, she became nothing more than a lump of unexplainable emotions. He made her lose the ability to talk, to act; made her into this simpering fool who kept offering everything she had to him and not ask for anything in return.

She should hate him for making her into this defenseless piece of trash. And yet, the very thought of him offered her a piece of tranquility like no other being in Heaven and Hell could. In the end, she was going to die because him and because of that, she didn't mind.

She was crying now. Pearls of white salty droplets slid down her cheek nimbly.

She chided herself for what was the use of crying.

Crying couldn't solve anything. Crying wouldn't stop her descent. Crying wouldn't reunite her with Ichigo.

She was such a stupid simpering idiot.

Where was that proud angel who held her head high?

Part of her wanted to yell at him, to let him see how his sudden leave left her broken in shambles, wanted him to come back and rescue her, wanted to know why he left without saying goodbye but her pride would not yield.

She refused to believe what everyone else was telling her-that he had indeed been simply toying with her.

Claiming her as his was only an act of demon induced possessiveness. The mere thought of it twisted her gut; it hurt her more than the physical wounds that ran along her petite form.

So, maybe it was better for her this way. To simply ease herself into the welcoming embrace of death, and hope fervently in the next life to be reincarnated as a human being, instead of being an angel or demon.

She could feel the cold breath of death surrounding her now. The faint whispers that she had overheard when she began her descent began to amplify themselves until they became shouts of pain and suffering. Mutilated bodies and tortured beings lay amidst their own pool of crimson liquid, choking on their own blood, begging for help and mercy that never came.

Bile rose to her throat. Silently, she shut her eyes tight. Mentally counting the distance that was rapidly decreasing.

* * *

XXX

She waited for the impact of fiery pavement against her face. Seconds went by. It was only when she mentally counted to 60, did she feel the presence of a familiar being behind her. A pair of arm came out behind her and wrapped themselves rather tightly around her slim waist.

And all of a sudden, everything else stopped moving. Gravity seemed to have lost its sudden pull and she was simply suspended in mid air with the new comer. She shuddered and drew in a sharp breath, involuntarily taking in the new comer's musky scent of cinnamon.

Her eyes fluttered open instantly.

She whirled around in surprise.

Behind her, stood the ever-so arrogant Kurosaki Ichigo with his lips curved into an all-knowing smirk. His warm honey-amber gaze focused directly on her. He wore a haggard expression on his face, bags formed under his eyes.

He looked terribly tired, as if he was forcibly dragged away from his bed in the middle of the night. Yet, she could feel the warmth that was simply radiating from his tall figure. Her hands reached out of their own accord to touch his cheek. To tell herself it wasn't a simple dream.

Suspended in mid air, a surge of unexplainable feelings coursed through her body. It made her want to cry and laugh the same time, it made her racing heart felt as if it was going to explode any second.

It was happiness, pure and simple that could only be found when she was with him.

He placed his callous left hand onto hers on the cheek, reassuring her that he was indeed right before her and not a conjured illusion. She traced her hands lovingly over his lower jaw, enjoying the feel of the rough stubble that was starting to form beneath her quivering touch. His movements seemed to mirroring hers as she found his right hand drawing abstract figures on her lithe back. It comforted her. She smiled, feeling the last of her tears sliding away.

He pressed his lips against hers, giving her chaste kiss that was both sweet, soft and gentle. He marveled slightly at how her plump red lips always looked so inviting and tasted like edible cherries. Her kisses were like a drug he couldn't get enough of, a drug that sometimes drove him to insanity. He could spend an eternity by simply being suspended in mid air while hugging her.

He missed her.

He supposed she would have been pretty upset at his sudden departure without even telling her.

But that can wait.

The most important thing now was to bring her back with him for medical care. His heart clenched at the very image of her bloody pliant form. Her once pure white wings, as opposed to his midnight black ones were caked with dried blood.

And her pristine white gown was splattered with blood stains. Her face though radiant with happiness still showed pain. Pain he wasn't capable of shielding her from.

The very thought of her being tortured and cast out of Heaven for the sake of him made his blood boil. Undisguised fury radiated from him as would molten lava from an erupting volcano.

He would make sure they pay for what they did to her later.

He burrowed her deeper into his embrace. He exhaled a breath that he had been unknowingly holding. Resting his chin directly upon the crook of her neck, he whispered silently into her ear.

"I'm sorry."

Sensing his anger and guilt, she wrapped her arms around in his neck, staring at him with her luminous amethyst orbs. She leaned in pressing against his rough lips with a passion that was eagerly returned. He nibbled at her plump lower lip, tilting her chin ever so slightly. She moaned as she felt sharp teeth nipping her lower lip.

He shuddered feeling their close proximity, savouring every moment they tender kiss they shared. He understood what she was saying by simply responding to that simple little kiss.

It didn't matter.

It didn't matter as long as he came back to her.

She'll bear every single scar on her back as long as it meant to be able to see him again.

He smiled in spite of their respective injuries. He'll do the exact thing for her; sacrifice every single thing that defined him as a demon for the sake of her. He loved her too much to let her go. He was stupid of him to even try it in the first place. The thought of never seeing her lovely face again, was worse than a thousand arrows piercing his heart.

* * *

_Don't leave me again._

* * *

XXX

That was the message her teary amethyst orbs were trying to tell him. It was fine even if she didn't express herself verbally. Because he understood her every expression, every smile and grimace. He was her soul mate. He would know everything there is and ever will be of hers. And she would too. She was his beacon of light, the one who kept his nightmares at bay, the one who would always stand by his side without cringing in disgust or fear.

"Let's go home, Rukia. Our home," he murmured into her ear.

Cradled against his chest, she simply nodded. Hearing the satisfying thump of his heartbeat. His heart was alive and beating, as was hers. She placed her pale shivering hand on top of where his heart should be placed.

Looking upwards, she beamed in utter happiness, mirroring his tired but nonetheless still happy grin. Carefully, he lifted her into his arms. Her head against his chest, his chin on top of her midnight strands.

They were the two imperfect pieces of a jigsaw puzzle that fitted perfectly together. From here onwards, she would bravely endure every single obstacle thrown in her direction with her hand intertwined with his.

As long as he was by her side, everything would turn out fine. Her home was with him. Because her heart was with him. And she knows that it was the exact same with him even if he didn't proclaim his love for her out loud. They didn't need it anyway.

Because they would remain eternally, Rukia and Ichigo as long as they were with each other.

Should the other cease to exist, they too would crumble and fall. They were the black sun and the white moon.

Contrasting against each other at all times, and yet still destined to be together.

* * *

_A single life time spent with you was already a blessing from Heaven. I can't guarantee that I'll be able to meet you as you are and fall in love with you every single life time. But if I were to continue to live for five life times, then I would spend the remaining four remembering you. For those five times I'd still have the same person in my heart. _

_Cherishing every memory we had of each other. And I know you'll do the same in a heartbeat for me._

* * *

Author's Note:

My first series of one-shots, mostly AUs; sort of parallel to the Ichiruki relationship we all love and adore in the original storyline seen from my point of view.

Inspiration: Orihime's confession.


	2. II: Head in the Clouds

_****_Title: Head in the Clouds

Setting: AU

Rating: M (to be safe)

Summary: When a certain raven-haired air hostess starts appearing in his dreams, Captain Kurosaki Ichigo _might_ just have a problem.

Disclaimer: Fill in the blanks- Bleach does _ belong to me. ;P

* * *

_**Head in the Clouds**_

XXX

_Half the time the world is asleep,_

_They dream of sweet nothings;_

_Of the feel of the wind against their skin;_

_Of the pillow beneath their heads;_

_Half the time I am asleep,_

_I dream of your;_

_Of your breathtaking smile;_

_Of the lingering scent of your skin._

He smashed his lips against hers, savouring the taste of fresh rain and cherry blossoms upon them.

It was unbelievably soft and so utterly delicious.

How could anyone in the world possess such sinfully soft and plump lips?

He deepened the kiss. Delving his tongue deep into the unchartered mystery, he almost gave an undignified yelp when he realized that she was responding passionately to his advances. He felt light-headed, as if he was walking in thin air.

Weightless and feather-light, he surrendered himself against the heated barrage of emotions willingly. Never before in his life, had he ever experienced something so... so…

He gave up finding the right word for describing his feelings and thoughts for the moment as he threw his body and soul into the very depth of human instincts- lust.

Almost immediately, his body was assaulted by a hundred, no a million indescribable sensations. Electric sparks ran amok, spreading through his very body, coursing through his veins, causing tiny jolts of tingles from the root of his tangled orange tresses to the very tips of his toes.

He shuddered.

* * *

_Is this paradise?_

* * *

XXX

Slowly, his body began to adjust to his current situation. Awareness to his current surroundings grew and he began to have a better sense of control over his extremities, so much so that he began to feel the recognized sensations wrecking havoc on his system. It was then when he became cognisant of the rhythmic pushing and pulling of his hips and the occasional grinding of his against something moist and that generated warm heat.

Drunk with lust, he wanted nothing more than to prolong his current state of bliss and happiness.

Rationality left him and his mind grew hazy as the engulfing lust threatened to steal away the last piece of humanity he still held. But yet, he did not fight it. It was just too wonderful that he was even willing to relinquish his hold over his mind and simply go along with the notion.

With lust clouding his mind and judgment, he began thrusting into the unbelievably-tight and slick heat. Warmth enveloped his length appendage as his vigorous actions continued with no hold of restrains. For the longest time, there was no hesitations, no second thoughts; there was only the culmination of the act that he was pouring his entire being into.

In the heat of the moment, there were no rationality that had long since abandoned him; there were no words spoken to express his pleasure; there was only the feel of flesh against flesh, the all-consuming heat surrounding his hardening manhood, the hot pleasurable ecstasy that originated from their conjoined forms.

* * *

_Yes. I need more…_

* * *

XXX

He was only dimly aware of the deep, guttural sounds he was using to express his pleasure. A few deep moans, an occasional hiss but it wasn't long before another voice joined in the mix. Breathless, sultry moans filled his ears as he found himself thrusting deeper and deeper into the slick, heated depth until he was entirely lost in the act. Such a delirious yet wonderful feeling he found himself suspended within. His own breath hitched as he tried to contain his excitement and instead focus on the owner of these melodious moans that sounded like nothing but sweet music from the Heavens.

This feeling he was experiencing really shouldn't have emerged, shouldn't have existed. It was just too good to be true. After all, how could he pour so much love and want into an act he had abstained himself from for so long?

Something wasn't right.

Curiosity piqued as he suddenly developed an urgent need to know the identity of his mysterious lover.

With much difficulty, he lifted his heavy lids and to reveal his glazed ocher orbs. They fell on his own lust-filled form first, at his thighs before finally landing on his engorged shaft that was quite simply pounding into her delightfully tight and moist folds.

The erotic sight fueled his passion and endeavour; sending another wave of searing, mind-numbing lust to his foggy mind and throbbing member that was becoming tensely rigid with every stroke he made.

Ignoring the quickening pace of his hips, he let his eyes adjust themselves to the darkness. Gradually, he was able to make out the shape of her lithe form. Her long, slender legs were wrapped so snug and firm along his waist, as if she was meant to be here with him. His field of vision trailed upwards, following the curvaceous outlines of her body.

Past her moist entrance that so intimately connected both of their writhing bodies, past her pert breasts that were flushed into a deep shade of sanguine; past her beating heart that was pounding against her ribcage as she panted heavily from the furious rhythm of their moving bodies.

He shut his eyes as another wave of pleasure drew closer.

When he opened his eyes, he was staring at a pair of luminous cerulean irises.

Tinged with specks of lust and want; her breathy moans were laced with an unusual sense of urgency as she began raising her hips seductively, meeting his deep, powerful strokes with every slam of their sweat-drenched bodies.

Her ivory skin seemed to have taken on ethereal glow under the soothing rays of moonlight. Beads of perspiration trickled down from the base of her unmarked throat exposed to his greedy eyes. Lower and lower it slid, until he could hold it no longer and leaned forward to lick the damn fluid away.

Grunting with satisfaction, he instinctively began to grind his hip harder and grounded himself deeper; groaning out loud when he caught sight of her arching body, quivering under his ministrations. Staring at her heart-shaped face and those mesmerizing orbs that held him bewitched, there was no longer any doubt on his mind of his mysterious lover.

The memory of her name that seemed to have evaded his mind so long had finally settled firm and rooted deep within his mind and heart. He picked up the pace of his gyrating hips, trying desperately to urge his body to fulfill his insatiable hunger.

He grunted. It was so close. He was so close. The familiar hum and tightening of his loins were becoming very uncomfortable with every single passing second. He didn't hold back.

With the last few greedy thrust his tired body could muster, he emptied himself, heart and soul within her spent body that panted out of sheer exhaustion.

* * *

_"Rukia…"_

* * *

XXX

With a sudden jerk, his brilliant honey orbs shot open as Ichigo found himself sat upright on his king-sized bed. He was back in his spacious bedroom. The digital clock at the nightstand showed that the current time was 5 in the morning. Panting and sweating, he groaned as he threw himself back against the soft, springy mattress.

He stared blankly at the ceiling, almost yanking his bright tresses in frustrations; as he tried in vain to calm his tersely beating heart and to make sense of the occurrence just now.

He had materialized Rukia amidst another one of his crazy X-rated wet dreams.

Again.

Things were becoming out of hand dangerously fast. She was his colleague. He shouldn't be having these dreams about her. When the dreams first started, he thought that it was just a random… nightmare; but now, he couldn't get rid of the dreams no matter what he tried. Now, he was stuck with a constant libido and the only one who could satisfy his insatiable lust was her- that vertically-challenged, bossy, psychotic, slave-driving, know-it-all, sassy, vivacious, too-sexy-for-her-own-good midget.

The feelings and overwhelming lust he had for her still lingered on his mind and in his body. He cursed as he realized that his leaky appendage was throbbing beneath the bed sheets. He shut his eyes tight, mentally cussing himself for being such a pervert.

Cold shower. He needed one right now. Growling angrily, he threw off his black silk sheets from his nude form and stood up. Noting the dirty bed sheets with disgust, perhaps he should start wearing something to bed from now on; he had a feeling that the dreams were just the beginning of his predicament.

How was he going to explain to his housekeeper about this?

It was embarrassing and mortifying. He yawned and stretched languidly; scowling as he caught sight of his pulsating erection that as standing proud and ramrod straight as his body.

Where did all his restraint and discipline go? He didn't remember himself being that hormonal during his high school days. What happened to the shy, blushing Ichigo who made it a point in his teenaged days that punch his classmates whenever one of them dared to even mention the scandalous topic of nude women and Playboy magazines?

* * *

_Rukia, obviously._

* * *

XXX

He groaned. Great, now he's talking to himself, could this week get any worse?

Moving to his wardrobe, he quickly fished out his pristine uniform. White pants, white short-sleeved collared shirt, the blue-yellow tie that annoys him to no end; all the clothing materials that make up the standard uniform of all pilots from the world-class Seireitei Airlines and last but not least another pair of clean briefs. With his clothes at hand, he angrily made his way into the bathroom.

Without turning on the heater, he twisted the faucet and shivered as icy cold water drenched his body. His teeth chattered from the cold and he grimaced. Ichigo braced himself against the tiled wall; eyes shut as water trickled down his well-toned form, following the carved plane of his lean yet supple form. He gritted his teeth hard as his lips started to turn blue from the extreme cold.

From the corner of his heavily hooded eyes, he watched in odd detachment as his erection barely lasted one fisted stroke before climaxing against the shower wall. He placed his left hand on the shower faucet, gently twisting it clockwise before resting his forehead against the cool surfaces of the wet bathroom wall.

"Rukia," he sighed, running yet another hand through his drenched locks that hung haphazardly, clinging on the sides of his well-sculpted facial features. He was at a total lost at what to do with her.

Is it lust?

He wasn't going to be a hypocrite and say that it wasn't. But somehow there was some other unknown feeling thrown in the mix. Problem was is that feeling pure enough to be associated with love?

Is he ready to come clean with her?

Will she reject him?

He scowled, clenching his fist and hit it against the wall. When, how and why did everything become so painfully complicated between them?

Things started out easy enough, but now it was just a mess of tangled yarn that was so hopelessly entangled. His own mind became preoccupied with memories as he found himself wandering down the well trodden path of memory lane. He shut his eyes, taking simple breathing exercises as he tuned out the outside voices of reality.

Born and breed in the central Karakura City, piloting was in his blood and he grew up as a little boy dreaming of flying. When the boys around his age were talking about girls and other stuff like football and soccer, he was concentrating his studies; ready to use every advantage to his means to get himself out there, to the peak of the game. His hard work and talent soon caught the attention of his instructors. Upon graduation, 21-year-old Kurosaki Ichigo was immediately offered several lucrative positions, amongst them the prominent Seireitei Airlines.

That was when everything went downhill; starting with his less than pleasant encounter with the bane of his existence and the light in his life- Kuchiki Rukia.

How was he to know that the espressos at the Urahara Café were supposed to be preordered? It was his first day at work. He needed coffee, nice, strong espresso worked best to calm nerves. It was just his day that the last cup of espresso he took from the counter happened to be the reserved coffee of the esteemed Kuchiki-san, long time customer of Urahara Café, air hostess and sister to Captain Kuchiki Byakuya of the Flight 06F.

What happened next was a chain reaction of his mistake and simple coincidental bad lucks. Before he could heed the waitress's warning, he had already finished the coffee; before he could whisk himself away; the midget chose to enter the café.

It only took her two seconds to figure out where her espresso had gone; one, to look at the coffee mug still caught in his death-like grip; and another to see the stain on his lips. If anyone tells you to never steal a woman's chocolate with her catching you in the act, then the same can be said for Rukia's espresso. Needless to say, she wasn't pleased to find someone finishing the last espresso of the day.

No, maybe 'not pleased' was an understatement. She was _livid_.

In the span of two seconds, she turned from the prim and proper ice queen to the perfectly homicidal midget. She demanded that he, the new guy compensate her exquisite espresso by helping her move.

He flat out refused. And, recalled his reply very vividly.

* * *

_Look; it's fine if you're looking for money or even coffee to replace yours. I drank yours by mistake and for that I'm sorry. But that's all I'm going to offer you. Heck, do I even look like a fucking moving guy material to you?_

* * *

XXX

Things began to spiral out of control from that point forward. The midget began threatening him, he insulted her height. Insults and name-calling ensued at ear-splitting decibels. The commotion eventually attracted a whole hoard of people, their fellow coworkers and other local folks in the airport piled themselves into the cramped cafe.

Details of what happened later were sketchy and different. The only thing everyone could agree on was that it was the funniest thing they have ever seen in their entire life. It was something straight out of the soap operas. Some even had the idea they were at a movie set. And Urahara Café never had a more profitable day in business. Urahara Kisuke even vowed that neither he nor that midget would ever need to preorder any espressos ever. It was on the house.

The banter between them had gotten so out of hand that everybody had already forgotten the original reason or purpose of the heated discussion, including themselves. The only concern on their mind was winning. The crowd didn't even care, they simply stood there laughing. Chaos and madness, it was.

In fact, things had gotten so out of control that the higher-ups were notified and security had to be called in. Both parties were escorted to the Head Captain Yamamoto. And after a quick reprimand of their childish antics, the matter was resolved leaving no room for further discussion.

He was going to have to be her moving guy of the day tomorrow. The old man's words were law. If Ichigo didn't followed through the order then he can both kiss his dream job bye bye. The midget standing beside him was so full of herself, giving him a smug grin.

He clenched his fist hard, resisting the intense urge he had to strangle her.

Inwardly, he was calling her every single dirty word his mind could conjure.

What happened after that particular incident was history whereby Ichigo eventually found himself progressing from the phase of 'hate-her-kill-her' to 'need-her-um…do-her' when dealing with the infamous midget; which then leads him back to his current situation at hand.

It was morning, time for work. And he dreaded the confrontation between them. They haven't spoken to each other for the past three weeks.

She was still stewing at the 'airplane pervert incident'. Well it wasn't his fault the old guy was such a pervert that he couldn't keep his hands to himself. The geezer tried to make a pass on Rukia; on _his_ Rukia. He trusted in her better judgment when it came to dealing with the assholes. And it was clear on what she should do; she should twist his arm and knee him where the sun doesn't shine.

You don't get all charming and polite when you deal with the hoard of male population intent on getting his ahem into your pants; but that's what Rukia did. The next thing he knew the geezer was … what he did next was unacceptable.

He asked for her phone number and … and … _touched_ Rukia.

Was it the captain's duty to intervene if his passenger has a tendency to molest the air hostesses and the crew?

Absolutely. He was protecting his coworkers from sexual harassment. He had every right to protect her. Besides, he didn't even do anything. He just glared at the man. And the man pissed his pants.

Was any major damage done to the pervert i.e. did the man in question lose a certain body part of his?

No.

Did the geezer lodge a complaint?

No.

Did his superiors call him in for probation?

No.

But did Rukia accept the gesture and said thank you?

Absolutely not.

The midget had the gall to punch him and flicked him off as if he was nothing more than a fly and that he was getting in her way. It hurt him inside more than what he cared to admit.

* * *

_"What do you mean 'getting in your way'?" he hollered. His face was in a dark shade of red. He was positively oozing the killer aura. The malice in the air could be felt miles away, originating from him._

_ "Exactly what I mean, carrot top! You're getting in the way! Are you so dumb now as to not understand simple Japanese," She threw another biting reply back at him. If looks could kill, the dumb orange-head would have been six-foot under._

_ "Rukia, the guy was basically eye-fucking you. His eyes were glued to your chest. And you call that being in control of the situation! Are you fucking deranged in your head? Or did you expect your precious nii-sama to come to rescue?" he practically shouted his reply, attracting a large number of curious stare. _

_ His chest was heaving. Rationality abandoned and sanity pushed aside. He was just so angry at … everything. It was only much much later after the words 'nii-sama' threw themselves into the conversation, did he suddenly realized that he had crossed the line with Rukia. Spectators flocked the arrival area but he ignored them. To hell with the crowd, he was never one to bother about public scenes anyway._

_ "Aw, hell Rukia. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. Look; I went out of line. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have mentioned Byakuya. I'm just so … um… You want to go Urahara's? I'll buy you the new Chappy plushie. You know the one we sa-"_

_ "Get away from me, Kurosaki," _

_ The raven-haired maiden's sultry alto voice had suddenly turned icy cold. He shivered. Not out of fear but of the concern that he ruined that special something between them; before it even had the chance to bloom._

_ "Rukia, I know you don't mean that. I'm sor-"_

_ "I said; get the hell away from me, Kurosaki. What part of that do you not understand? Just leave me alone," With that she left, her soft-clanking stilettos making those sharp thudding footsteps as she slowly walked away from him. _

_ "Rukia," he murmured silently, watching as her slim figure disappeared into the crowd. His outstretched arm didn't grab hold of her wrist in time._

* * *

XXX

As he buttoned up the last button on his neat uniform and struggled with his tie, he gave himself one last glance in the mirror before looking at the neatly-packed suitcase beside the door. He grimaced; Yumichika's words rang ominously in his ears and haunted him every time he allowed himself to dwell on the topic.

* * *

_Being in denial is such an unbeautiful thing to do, Ichigo-san. Do both of you guys a favour and confess, Ichigo-san. Make up; make out. Just do something! The scowl doesn't really suit your handsome face. Ikkaku was saying that you even come close to losing yesterday during kendo practice. It's pathetic, Ichigo-san. Please stand up and redeem yourself as a worthy man in my eyes._

* * *

XXX

He scowled. Picking up the small luggage by his side, he trudged himself to the exit, bidding his spacious condo good bye for the week. This time tomorrow he would be in Paris.

With the midget.

"Excuse me, coming through," came a deep, masculine voice as he hefted his suitcase; pushing his way among the crowd to reach the elevator in time. Heads turned as he roughly made his way forward, bumping into several people in his mad dash for the elevator.

He even heard a few muffled curses directed at him as he sped past, but he didn't have the time to return the gesture. God knows, how much he wanted to flip the jerk his middle finger; but time didn't allow that luxury. Time was slipping through his very fingers too fast for his comfort. In the blink of an eye, his left foot made it on to the last staircase.

Sharply maneuvering his way past the crowd, he finally caught sight of the metallic double doors. And they were closing in fast. He took a casual glance at his wristwatch before he cursed inwardly and started to quicken his walking pace.

There went his perfect track record and Pilot of the Month. Screw the midget; he got so lost in his thoughts that he missed the stop to the airport.

The familiar hum coming from the elevator jolted him from his rant. He hated that sound more than anything especially in his current situation- the elevator doors are closing. He gave a silent plea, hoping that whatever higher power up there could hear him and hold the door for him.

Surprisingly, his prayers were answered. Someone had decided to hold the door and he reached it just as the doors shut themselves. The doors behind him sealed themselves shut the very minute he stepped inside the elevating platform.

That was an odd chance of good luck. Whirling around, Ichigo turned to see who his kind benefactor was. His word of thanks died on his lips the very instant he recognized the strand of rebellious ebony lock hanging between her eyes.

Wandering ocher interlocked with intense cerulean.

* * *

_Oh boy._

* * *

XXX

Both a blessing and a curse, it seems. He made it on time only to share a ride with last person in the world he wanted to confront right now.

Rukia. Why that midget always seemed to appear in the middle of the worst possible situation is beyond him. It must have been fate or karma.

"Um…Rukia, hi. Good morning?" said Ichigo as he attempted to start a conversation. Inwardly, he smacked himself; as if the situation between them wasn't awkward as it was, he just had to go ahead and make an even bigger mess out of it.

Smooth talker? Definitely not Kurosaki Ichigo.

She rolled her eyes, ignoring him. A vein struck out on his forehead; so they're still playing the 'cold-shoulder game'. He took another glance to assess her.

Standing at a meager 4'9", there was really no doubt that Kuchiki Rukia was a midget. In fact, there were times that Ichigo himself had wondered how she had managed to get past the regulation that every air hostess had to have a minimum height of 5'2". But what she lacked in her physical aspect was made up by her graceful presence.

With ivory skin as white as alabaster and a mop of raven hair as dark as the night itself, there was no denying that she looked every inch like an old traditional Japanese princess or a snow maiden in the traditional folklore.

The most striking features of her however were her pair of cerulean-hued orbs, tinted with various shade of indigo depending on her mood and the lighting of her surroundings.

* * *

_Like last night…_

* * *

XXX

Flashes of his dream flitted through his mind and amongst them the luminous, smoking soul-sucking eyes belonging to a certain petite air hostess. Her sultry moans cut through the thickening silence as she arched her back, offering her body willingly to his assault. And then there was her beautiful naked body glistening with sweat as they soared higher and higher towards nirvana. So delicious…

And to think the only thing between her body and his hungry gaze right now was that stupid air hostess uniform. The black -or was it navy blue?- skirt barely reached her knee and don't even get him started on that white button-up blouse that hugged her petite curves, effectively cutting him off from the delicious view of her deliciously naked body.

He took a step in closer towards her, hoping to catch a wisp of her lust-inducing scent. Does she have any bra beneath that shirt? Was it black or lacy? Either way it would have been a treat for him to just bend himself over her while slowly unbuttoning the little brass buttons on her blouse one by one. The look of lust reflected on her delicate visage would have had him rock hard within seconds.

He groaned at where his train of thoughts were leading to. He was so not going to have dirty thoughts about the midget in a small, tight space with hoards of passengers pressed against each other like sardines.

He tore his gaze away from her petite form and scowled, glaring at the flashing floor-indicator; silently willing it to go faster.

The soft 'ding' alerted the various passengers of the elevator that they had reached their intended floor. Gripping the suitcase tight, he waited for her to exit- hoping that he could catch up with her and apologize. In all his entire 21 years of living on planet Earth, Kurosaki Ichigo had never begged anyone but right now, he was just one-step away from it.

Damn it, why wouldn't the midget talk to him? She's mad about his careless comment, so she ignored him. It was understandable but it's already been three weeks. Three weeks of not talking, not seeing each other, not bantering; he felt as if he was dying inside.

Slowly and painfully.

Unsurprisingly, he was the last to leave the elevator but by then the raven-haired vixen was long gone. He cursed, running a hand through his tousled locks; and with a barely audible sigh nimbly made his way out of the elevator.

Rukia will have to wait. The next flight takes off at another 45 minutes; with or without him.

He'd rather be on it with Rukia, a constant hard-on and guilt than alone in the condo with a constant hard-on and guilt.

* * *

_Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. This is your Captain, Kurosaki Ichigo speaking. We'll be taking off for Paris in a few short minutes. If you have any trouble locating your respective seats, do not hesitate to ask for assistance from our air hosts and hostesses. Now the safety demonstrations, kindly …_

* * *

XXX

His deep, masculine voice reverberated through the intercom. Brushing a stray lock of ebony behind her ear, Kuchiki Rukia sighed inwardly. It was useless. Everything she thinks or does would have automatically leaded her back to Kurosaki Ichigo; world class pilot of Seireitei Airlines and the idiot of the century.

Just what did she owe that carrot top in her previous lifetime?

She thought back to the brief confrontation they had in the elevator. Why did she hold the door? Because of a random pull at her guts that told her to?

No, that wasn't it. Kuchiki Rukia didn't function on instincts. She functions at cold hard facts. These ridiculous things called instincts didn't suit her calm KUchiki persona.

But then what?

She chose to ignore that particular question for now. Thinking back, that idiot had such a ridiculous look on his face. He probably thought she was still mad at him.

* * *

_That baka._

* * *

XXX

He had that look of guilt and pain on his face that she was responsible for inflicting. But in reality, she wasn't even annoyed at him. Heck, even she was surprised at how fast she had come to her senses to forgive him. It was almost as if she was incapable of staying mad at him for longer than 24 hours. And that infuriated and unsettled her more than the actual wrongdoing of that annoying baka.

If there was anyone in the world she was currently frustrated at, then it was herself. Rukia saw herself as a lot of things but never once had she ever felt so confused and lost as she is now. She let that orange-headed pilot into her heart, her world; and now things were changing, no morphing into something at a speed so fast that she herself couldn't keep up with the pace.

How can someone that started off as a mere nothing change into someone so drastically important in her life?

She didn't understand it then, she still doesn't understand it now. Perchance it was karma; in the beginning, she did little to hide her vexation of him. After all, woe is the idiot who chose to incur her wrath by stealing her precious espresso. She did everything she could think of to annoy him; she was bossy, demanding, slave-driving and more.

She took advantage of him in every possible way. He was supposed to be the porter, helping her carry her luggage when they touch down. When she wants a new Chappy exclusive, it's his wallet that got bled dry. When she felt bored, she went to Ichigo's condo; stealing his food, borrowing his books, forcing him to watch chick flicks with her until they both fell asleep on the couch.

She stifled a laugh. The look of mirth was upon her delicate features. She sighed. The list could go on forever.

But now, he became something so utterly inseparable to her that he was like the very air she breathe and blue sky above her head. Her meaningless pokes for fun ended the minute when she realized what he would do for her in a heartbeat.

It was the minute when the stupid jerk had decided to confront the pervert who couldn't keep his hands to himself on her behalf, knowing full well that he could have lost his job by doing so.

It was the minute when she realized that Kurosaki Ichigo would risk his everything for her.

And that, she would return the gesture without as much as a bat of her eyelash.

That was when the real shock and realization settled upon her.

The heart of Kuchiki Rukia had resumed its steady beating again; sending a wave of warm, fuzzy anomaly coursing through her veins.

She had sworn off the foreign feeling; pushing into the very depth of her being after her last experience. The aftertaste of unrequited love and a lover's betrayal was bitter and difficult to relinquish, so much so that she didn't want to ever open up her heart again.

So she became a coward, she ran; she hid; she lied; she made up excuses. She did everything she could to sever every potential future she had with another.

* * *

_Until the obnoxious strawberry stumbled into her well-balanced life and turned everything upside-down._

* * *

XXX

Without her even realizing it, the buffoon had her completely wrapped around his finger; until quite suddenly; her world started revolving around his. He became the Sun in her dark, barren world. The heavy icebergs that had encased her for so long started cracking; melting; splitting; until little pieces of her were finally made visible after the long years of frozen neglect. He, the Sun melted the ice surrounding her; gave her the new warmth that made her hum.

And because she was the Moon, nothing terrified her more than that. Nothing was more terrifying and unnerving to her soul, than to see the bright glares and not do a thing to save herself. All human beings were afraid of change; she was no exception.

She was afraid of accepting these new coming feelings, so she pushed him away; keeping him at an arm's length, to preserve her pride and sanity. She told herself that she was doing the right thing. Love was a pointless emotion after all. It would just ruin the friendship between her and Ichigo.

But…

* * *

_"Rukia," Ichigo called out, attracting several stares from passerby. His scowl was still present but beneath his tough exterior she could detect the barest hint of annoyance, frustration and concern. He was itching to sneeze. She sighed. Sometimes, she wished that she couldn't read him that well. Not that the baka made any attempts to mask his emotions at all._

_ Her amethyst-hued eyes darted back towards him. The setting sun had casted a new mantle of brilliance to his bright orange locks. Specks of gold reflected themselves in his warm honey ambers. The very sight made her heart skipped a few beats, but she forced herself to remain calm._

_ "Yes, Ichigo; we've already discussed this. You don't have to walk me back. I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself. You on the other hand, have a cold. Go home!" she said, giving a flippant wave to dismiss him._

_ Unsurprisingly he scowled, sliding his hands back into his pockets. The corners of her lips twitched upwards. At least the strawberry wasn't being stubborn or stupid today. He was sick and they both knew that. It'll do him more good by staying in his condo with a bowl of chicken soup then being out here with the Autumn chill setting in._

_ "Rukia," he called out again._

_ Seeing no other way out of this, she relented. "Yes, I know. I'll call you once I get home. Geez, you're such a worrying mother hen. What are you? My mom?" _

_ Then, calmly striding towards him, she did something that shocked both of them. Leaning in, and standing on her tiptoes, she gave him a light peck on his right cheek. She watched him cup his cheek in disbelief, while the taste of his skin lingered on her lips. She could have sworn there was a shade of red blushing on his face, but it could have been the sun playing tricks with her eyes. _

_ The salty aftertaste of his skin stayed on her rose-petal lips. The taste was burned in her mind and his scent of musky aftershave and cinnamon lingered. Good god, of all the spontaneous acts of stupidity she had ever done. She bit her lips. The awkward silence stretched itself, filling the empty air spaces between them._

_ Fortunately, the artificial electronic announcement called her to her attention. She checked her cell phone- 5 minutes to 6. The train will depart soon._

_ Taking advantage of the announcement, she made her hasty retreat._

_ "B-b-bye, strawberry. I'll um... call you later," She called out to him before sprinting towards the subway train. The double panels slid shut in a matter of minutes. She stood by, facing the open window that oversaw his stunned figure standing amidst the other passerby. She acted like a hormonal teenager for crying out loud. Right in front of him. God, she even stuttered. She, a Kuchiki stuttered. This was so embarrassing. _

_ She gazed out of the window, hoping to gauze his reaction. Was he disgusted? Mortified? She had to know. Kuchiki pride was on the line._

_ So, she leaned in closer, pressing her nose against the window to catch the glimpse of him. The next thing she saw evaporated every single embarrassment and turmoil within her. From the window, the last look she had of him; was a look of pure happiness._

* * *

XXX

There were times like that that made her want to further their relationship, made her feel as if he would want the same thing too. There were times when she woke up from her lust-induced slumber; chest-heaving and eyes glazed; yelling his name. There were times when she caught him giving her those meaningful glances when he thought no one was looking. He looked at her like he was looking at something that confused him and yet brings him happiness- it made him smile.

From his heart.

And she wanted to do everything in her power to make sure that he smiled more often like that. She sighed. Would that stupid carrot top accept her and take their relationship another step further?

She sighed deeply; willing herself to no longer think about the matter. The risk was simply too great. Hadn't she been the one to convince herself to not further their relationship any deeper?

Why was it that one look from him, one deep look on his handsome face was all that it took to flush all those sleepless nights that she spent convincing herself to act with her mind instead of her heart down the drain?

_You've already decided. It's the best thing for the both of you. You are a Kuchiki. Remember that. He is _**nothing**_ but a friend._

_ He is _**nothing**_ but a friend. _

_ He is _**NOTHING**_ but a friend._

She repeated the sentence like a mantra. But she herself knew full-heartedly that her attempts were futile. She sighed; if only the words didn't sound so fake and forced to her own ears.

Her glazed eye had a sudden faraway look about them as they focused themselves on the parting scenery. A small, nearly unnoticeable 'pop' in her ears was all the indication she needed as the plane gracefully lifted itself away from the pull of gravity.

They were flying, ascending through the clouds at an average of 200 knots, 35,000 feet high in the sky.

It was such a long way down.

* * *

Author's note:

My source of inspiration: The vacation I took this year. Notice how pilot calls himself 'this is your **captain **speaking...'. Yeah, that's probably just me and my random trains of thoughts. HAHA! :)

Oops, looks like our favourite couple has a major case of UST. HAHA! Yours truly first attempt at lemon or in this case lime, officially sucked…

Looking forward to a happy ending? Then look no further, click that little 'review' button and review.

PS. I haven't forgotten about my other stories. It's just well exams, tests, family issues, school drama… In any case, feel free to pick any one of them and put the blame on them.


	3. III: Rusalka

Title: Rusalka

Setting: AU

Rating: T

Summary: He forfeited his heart to a water nymph. A sailing voyage gone wrong just might be the best thing that had ever happen to this sailor.

Disclaimer: Fill in the blanks- Bleach does _ belong to me. ;P

* * *

_**Rusalka**_

XXX

_Each day, every hour__  
__I habitually follow in my thoughts,__  
__Trying to guess from their number__  
__The year which brings my death._

_-A.S. Pushkin, Thoughts (1829)_

The ship was lost to its surrounding. Splashes of wave swept the deck as it rocked dangerously from side to side; turning it slippery. Up in the gloomy night sky, thunders erupted from the darkening clouds that loomed and gathered ominously. Towering tides pushed and shoved; tossing the ship like a little rag doll amidst the endless ocean. Above the crews' heads, lightning cackled maliciously in the dark- a sudden flash of light that illuminated the darkness and yet brought no comfort to the crews.

Teeth were chattering and hands were shaking as the men tried to ignore their harsh surroundings and focus on their tasks.

They couldn't afford to lose faith or panic if they wanted to survive. They grinded their teeth together and put a false mask of courage.

* * *

_Fear spreads like wildfire. Panic and you _**all**_ die._

* * *

XXX

Those were the captain's exact words. And they will do well to heed it.

Howling winds assaulted their ears. The eerie whistle that inspired fear as sails flew and tossed; set loose by the winds and reluctant to be tamed by their charges. Beads of rain began to pour; drenching the men and their clothes wet while renewing the vigorous actions of the untiring waves.

The captain of the ship stood his ground. His eyes hardened into diamond-like glints as he cursed while holding the steers; pushing the wheel with all his might even as he too became drenched in the salty sea liquid.

He scowled. He was not what he used to be. The young, hot-blooded sailor he once was had turned into an old, haggard captain with brittle bones and limited stamina. He cursed yet again as his callous hands slipped from the steers.

"Ichigo," he hollered. His voice hoarse from screaming bloody curses to the raging sea did not failed him as he motioned for his second-in-command.

"WHAT!" came his answer as the young man in-question lifted his head towards the direction of his captain. His lips were set in a fierce scowl while his tawny eyes glared; a hand was running through his unruly wet mass of orange tresses while another was gripping the ends of a twisted rope.

"Get your lazy ass up here, ya wuss! You can't expect an old man to man the old girl through this bloody mess of a fucking storm!"

Ichigo frowned. The echoes of the crashing ocean waves overlapped with the roaring thunders heard up ahead. He strained his ears but still could not hear what his superior was saying. He made a sign- shaking his head and holding up his hand against his left ear; indicating he couldn't hear.

The old man cursed. His grip slipped once again on the steers. "Damnit, Kurosaki. I said-"

"Captain!"

He cursed yet again. The scowl on his scarred face deepening as he shot an annoyed look at the sniveling young boy who interrupted him. Snot dripped from his nose as his dirty clothes clung on to his thin as a rake body. He fought down the urge to reprimand the boy for the terrible state of his clothes and of his pathetic sense of duty.

Damn fools and their bloody sense! Did the idiot actually know what was going t happen to him and the rest of the crew if his lieutenant didn't take over in time?

"WHAT is it, ya wuss! If you have something to say, spit it out! I ain't got all day!"

The boy's teeth were chattering, the old captain had no idea whether it was from the cold or was it fear, but if the fool valued his life, then he better started talking. Shooting the blubbering idiot a vengeful dark look, it took him several seconds to notice that the fool's hands were shaking and his finger was pointing at something. He followed the boy's line of vision.

"The Gods have mercy," he muttered as he suddenly became aware of the danger they were in.

He gulped. His hand slipped from the steers as he found himself rooted; terror had drowned out the wails and shouts of the crew. His mouth was left unhinged as he caught sight of the massive wave that was building up; predominating the horizon as it towered before his boat.

He took one step back. Just one simple, unassuming step and it all came crashing down.

In one simple sweep of movement, the wave struck, toppling the vessel as if it was made of air; effectively drowning out the pains and wallows of the crew as they struggled to find something to hold onto in the vast, untamed ocean.

The sturdy ship that was crafted by the greatest masters of the time, one who had withstood countless storms, faced and chased pirates like a game of hide-and-seek in a playground called the ocean, met her end that night.

It had simply vanished into a few useless planks in the blink of an eye.

* * *

XXX

Surveying his surroundings with the interest and curiosity of a child, Ichigo stared at his new surroundings with amazement. There was be a cluster of odd rocks jagging from the curving shoreline, a gentle breeze of wind caressing the rough angular features of his unshaven face, a calm splash of sea waves against his rough soles as he relished the feeling of the tiny grains of golden specks caught between his toes; he inhaled, allowing a faint whiff of salt and mint to invade his nostrils.

He was on a beach- a wide, endless stretch of sand particles as the shoreline of crystal clear liquid melted and laid dormant with its heaven counterpart. The deep sanguine of the bleeding sun juxtaposed the serenity of the calm aquamarine-coloured ocean; painting a picture of perfect harmony. His honey ocher orbs saw lazy white clouds that resemble candy flosses gliding across the blue sky; their white quickly morphing into a wider range of hues that included cream, maroon and plenty of others he simply couldn't name as the retiring sun set his course westwards. He casted his gaze to the long strip of sand.

Not a soul was in sight.

Where are the others? Was he the only survivor?

He suppressed a shudder. The last thing he remembered was the ship capsizing. Its crew awash and set adrift on the demonic waters. Had they all miraculously survived like him; stranded on some strange unmarked territory?

Or had they already met their ends; their bones lying on the ocean floor while their flesh fed the wildlife that thrived in the sea?

Questions reeled, but he held no answers. He would worry about leaving the ocean shore or whatever they called this uninhabited territory later, for now; he was just thankful to be alive.

He inspected himself, searching for any injuries he might have. His shirt had been torn to strips and he was missing his left boot. He sighed; throwing himself back first onto the soft grains of sand underneath, basking in the warmth of the sun. His naked upper-torso was left bare to defy the unforgiving glare of the dimming sun; the chiseled chest and well-sculpted muscles gleaming a golden sheen as his ruined trousers; barely protecting his calves hung from his waist.

He flexed his muscles, grabbing a handful of the golden grains before allowing it to escape confinement and let it dribbled back to the gigantic sand box he was lying on. The weather was mild and the temperature cooling as he turned his gaze heavenward and saw the clouds rolling past right before his very eyes.

It was nice change of pace. It was a blanket of security that had him encased in a cocoon that he was in no hurry to wriggle out from.

He shut his eyes, allowing the sound of nature, of rolling sea waves and the whistling tune of a calm ocean breeze to assault his senses. They dominated his hearing and for a while that was all he heard. He reclined lazily on the sand, enjoying the breathtaking view and the soothing calls of the ethereal world.

Until he started hearing something that was distinctly human.

* * *

XXX

It started no more than a tiny spurt of giggle. It was pleasing on the ears, as soft as the wind was and just as easily ignored but it captured his attention, captivating him more than the waves, the sunset and the ocean ever could.

He lifted his heavy eye lids and from the crack of his eye lids, he saw a girl standing in the middle of the wide ocean. Standing with her back facing him, he couldn't make out the soft contours of her visage, just the curving outline of her sylphlike body.

He corrected himself. She wasn't a girl, she was a woman. Her lithe silhouette was accented by the final rays of the bleeding sun, her movements graceful as she summoned the gentle waves of the ocean to do her bidding. One simple curve of her delicate hands and a wave arrived, another swerve made the wave rise.

Sometimes, the waves would tower over her and as she let go of the control she held over it, salty sea water heaved; drenching and soaking her petite figure from the top of her glossy ebony locks that barely reached her shoulder blades to the hem of her white sundress; making the subtle curves she hid underneath her dress apparent. It was then when she would tilt her heart-shaped face in a particular way and the sound of musical laughter would be left resonating in his ears. Even when her face was obscured from his penetrating gaze, he could tell that she was having a great time; grinning from ear to ear as she laughed.

Ichigo for one did not know for how long he just sat there; mesmerized by the sight of her dancing figure as she made the waves sing and the ocean, her stage. He contented himself with being her only audience; she was dancing for him and him alone.

A water nymph was dancing in the middle of the ocean just for him.

And for that, he was oddly reminded of Alexander Pushkin's _The Water Nymph_.

* * *

_She eyes the monk and brushes gently the hair and water off her arms. He shakes with fear and looks intently at her seductive, luscious charms. With eager hand she waves and beckons, nods quickly, smiling from afar. And shoots within two flashing seconds, into still water like a star._

* * *

XXX

He sighed. If she was the beguiling water nymph, then he was undoubtedly the poor monk with whom the enchanting creature had ensnared with her charms. With that poem emplaced within his mind, his limbs seemed to have suddenly developed a mind of their own as they made their way towards the mysterious woman; taking one step at a time, until there was a neat trail of footprints etched upon the sparkling sand.

Upon contact with the icy cool water, Ichigo flinched involuntarily. Casting his gaze to the elusive woman, he was all too aware of the distance in between. He couldn't help but marvel at how elegant and refined her movements were. Every move she made was calculated with extreme care and executed perfectly. Around her, ripples pooled and disappeared as fast as they had appeared.

She truly was a creature of unspoken elegance as she beckoned the waves with a swipe of her hand, the water flows accordingly and even when they fell down into the ocean there were no splashes made. She was dancing effortlessly as if she had long since melded herself together with the water; they were one.

He on the other hand, felt like an ugly duckling next to the seamlessly graceful swan. Waddling awkwardly in knee-deep water, ripples and splashes sneered and jeered at him as he made his clumsy attempt to the centre of the ocean. He had to struggle to maintain his balance against the tides.

He stuck out like a sore thumb and every once in a while, a playful current would attempt to trip him.

His face contorted into a look of mild annoyance. Every step he made felt like an eternity, it was going to take him a while before he could reach her.

He was right.

By the time he had eventually became close enough to see the lacing patterns of the dress the elusive woman had on, he had already been caught under the current for countless time. Every time he made the mistake of walking too fast or paying less attention to the currents, he would trip and fall; the lingering taste of salty seawater spewing from his mouth as he wiped the corners of his mouth with thinly veiled disgust.

He swore that the currents and ripples were a test for him; an obstacle course he had to go through the see her mysterious face, as if the waves were the natural barrier set up by that enigmatic nymph to hinder and to tease. He was more determined than ever now to catch a glimpse of her.

* * *

_There._

* * *

XXX

At long last, he was finally behind her, her body tantalizingly close to his. A faint scent of rain and lavender tingled his senses, making him lightheaded. His hands had shot up out of their own accord to grip her forearms, but she remained wordless and still did not turn around to meet his gaze. He chose to let silence fill the empty spaces that stretched between their hearts. The strong desire he once had to hear her sing, speak and to lift the mask of darkness she hid under had somehow waned upon confrontation with this delightful being.

He still found her ethereal beauty captivating, but through the journey he had made to reached her; he found he had enquired a new grudging sense of respect and admiration for the faceless enchantress that previously merely consisted of lust and curiosity.

He chuckled. So, she may keep her silence of gold, her face of a thousand unnamed splendors. He would let her. It was the little mysteries that made life interesting. Perhaps the moment she openly revealed her secret, would spell the end of his transfixion about her.

Instead, he took his time familiarizing himself with the smooth feel of alabaster skin beneath his callous hands, bringing her close to him subconsciously until they were practically molded together.

He buried himself in her dark tresses as he greedily inhaled the unique scent that she alone carried. By then, his arms had wrapped themselves snugly along her slender waist, rendering her delicate hands immobile; he had half expected her to resist his pull, to return to the ocean from whence she came.

However, the lady of the water seemed quite content with the position she was in and leant forward, snuggling deeper into his strong chest. A satisfied purr was heard and a crooked grin appeared upon his lips.

That was the only sound apart from her mirthful laughter he had heard that day and it made his heart swell that it was he who invoked such a sultry, seductive result from her.

He pressed a chaste kiss on the top of her crown before resting his chin upon her mop of raven tresses, peering from his long, tawny eyelashes as the sun finally vanished from the horizon.

There, with his strong arms embracing her and holding her tight; the sailor and the water nymph watched in perfect content and unison as the magnificent sun dipped low beneath the horizon and disappeared from sight.

They said, home is where the heart is. His wandering fingers crept past her delicate moulds to touch the upper left side of her supple form; touching the spot where her heart should be beating.

If you listened hard enough, you could hear two distinct heartbeats beating within that nymph; his and hers. His heart was right there beating inside the beguiling creature held within his arms.

It belonged to her and her alone.

Ichigo chuckled. He had an eternity to unravel the mystery of his surroundings and of the beguiling water nymph that held his undivided attention.

Within his strong embrace, the nymph purred. Her delight was pure and mirthful as a playful smile came and rested on her lovely rose-petals. She tilted her face towards him and then tenderly pressed her palm against his cheeks. Unshaven whiskers pricked at her slender finger tips as she ran it across his strong jaw.

They touched his full lips, running a single digit invitingly at his rough lips repeatedly until she was finally satisfied with her results. Taking in a sharp intake of breath, she curiously glanced upwards; her luminous orbs searching for his.

He smiled. His amber-hued irises found amethyst-like sapphires as they met each others gaze wordlessly. The air around them hissed as sparks went off in a visually invisible manner.

They were the only ones who mattered now.

She turned so that her pliant body was now facing him. Lips curving and eyes dancing, she kept their gaze locked before snuggling deeper into his embrace as she whispered into his right ear.

_Take your time._

* * *

Author's Note:

My tribute to Alexander Pushkin's _Rusalka_.

Angst Galore! A pity it remained unfinished. I loved Pushkin's works. My favoruite being _Rusalka_ (unfinished as it is), _Thoughts_ and _The Blizzard_.

P.S. Is anybody interested in doing a fan art about a water nymph and a sailor?


	4. IV: Of Hades & Persephone

Title: Of Hades & Persephone

Setting: AU

Rating: T (because I don't think there's any major _actions_ going on)

Summary: Because without her, there would be no light for the God of Underworld.

Prompt: A rendition of a greek myth featuring Ichigo and Rukia- **darklover**

Disclaimer: Fill in the blanks- Bleach does _ belong to me. ;P

* * *

**Of Hades & Persephone**

XXX

Voices grew louder with every shuddering step she took towards the throne room.

* * *

"_She doesn't belong here. You have to let her go."_

* * *

XXX

Her indigo-blue eyes widened as she soon recognized the owner of the voice. She grimaced and gathering her long, flowing white _peplos_ into a bunch, quickly broke into a run. She knew that they would eventually come for her and that Hades couldn't exactly hide her away from prying eyes forever, but still…

This confrontation was too soon.

* * *

"_Did you really think that her mother will give you her blessing? Release her."_

* * *

XXX

The hallways literally shook as the conversation escalated. Every single syllable uttered began bouncing off the reverberating walls, coming to life in her sensitive ears as she became aware of the myriad of emotions underlying them. Around her, the various torches that illuminated her path lost their flickering flames and some had dropped to the marble-polished floor with a loud clatter. Cracks began scaling their path along the abused walls like spiders, making small and barely audible snaps with every passing second.

Beads of sweat appeared on her forehead as she fought against the strong currents of the attack. They cut through the air like scythes and before long; she had rivulets of blood running down her forearms while her gown was ripped. She bit her lips hard and forced herself to keep running.

Hades had always been in control of his emotions and powers and so far he had been keeping them in check, but as always there's a certain limit to one's patience and tolerance. If Ares's tirade could crack the walls of the Underworld itself, then there was simply no telling the extent of the catastrophe that will occur once Hades joins in the fray.

She hastened her pace.

Whatever that was about to happen, she had to stop it and to stop it, she will have to get to the throne room before Hades lost his self-control.

As she rounded the corner, she found herself merely two steps away from the intimidating throne room. The ebony double doors leading to it were barely hanging on the hinges by then, no doubt yet another innocent victim from the younger God's harangue.

She saw Hades seated regally and menacingly upon his throne of shadow and silver. Under the dim lighting of the grand parlour, he was cast as an ominous figure shrouded by the gloom and despair that seem to trail behind him; hair of the colour of fire, unbound and wild, golden eyes gleaming with barely concealed contempt and his lips set in a dark scowl, but otherwise, completely unaffected by Ares's outburst.

Opposite him, stood the God of War, Ares garbed in tempestuous red with dark inky swirls of tribal tattoo covering most of his callous skin. He returned Hades's glare every bit as passionately.

The tension in the room was palpable.

She made a dash forward in hopes of stopping Hades's retaliation for Ares's outburst.

* * *

"**I won't."**

* * *

XXX

The intensity of his words created shockwaves that were strong enough to send everything else in his path flying. Persephone herself was caught in the crossfire.

Her petite body was launched into the air and before she could even catch her breath, was sent slamming against one of the walls, rendered immobile by an invisible hand that held her in place. Her midnight black strands that were previously held in a neat coiffure came undone and cascaded down her waist while she gasped in pain.

Next came a torrent of intense emotions, she was practically smothered by the onslaught barraging from Hades. It was as though the air in her lungs were being squeezed to accommodate the choking sense of despair, guilt, passion, lust and love pouring from the very depth of his immortal soul like a waterfall.

Hard of breathing, she crumpled to her knees. The last thing she remembered before slipping out of consciousness was the haunting pair of molten amber, every bit as demanding and intense as their owner.

* * *

_Hades._

* * *

XXX

Memories started dancing in her mind, twisting away like the patterns in a kaleidoscope.

* * *

XXX

"_Why did you rescue me?" asked the violet-eyed Goddess as she faced the Ruler of the Underworld unflinching and unafraid. _

_Dark blue bruises marred her ankles and forearm but the most hideous injuries she had sustained was a wide gash on her arm, running from her elbow right down to her wrist. _

_For now, the bleeding has been stemmed, and said left arm propped on the table littered with herbs and ambrosia. Apparently, the feared God of Underworld was quite the healer._

_Shrugging apathetically, the Olympian raised his left eyebrow before replying in his husky baritone voice, "Would you rather I left you there while you bled to death instead?" He proceeded to smear a generous layer of green poultice on her wound._

_She scowled. Was he insinuating that she was pitiful? _

_"I do not need your help," she muttered, hissing slightly from the pain._

_Or your pity, she thought darkly._

"_You may not need them but I assure you that I will not tolerate the sight of someone dying well before their time. I have too many departed souls parading before me as for now; I would appreciate it if you would refrain from joining them," he answered coolly. _

"_I thought you're Hades, the God of the Underworld. Aren't you happy to have more subjects to rule in your realm?"She inquired curiously as he wrapped a clean sheet of linen across her wound._

_He snorted. "Trust me; you wouldn't like having too many subjects here either if you were me." _

"_Why?"_

_His eyes twinkled with mischief as they connected with hers and she noted that despite what the rumours say about the heartless God, he had a pair of surprisingly warm and beautiful pair of golden brown eyes. _

"_For starters, they can be extremely loud in their wailings and well, let's face it the dead have all the time in the world for self pity. Secondly, the traffic control is terrible. Do you have any idea about the number of times Charon came to me asking for a raise?"_

_She couldn't help but smirk. "Enlighten me," she said._

_To her surprise, the male deity countered her request with another request. "I will if the maiden would grace me with her name," he whispered as he gently pressed a kiss upon her left palm._

_ "I don't think you've done anything yet to merit the use of my name," she replied in mock arrogance, turning her nose up in the air haughtily._

_ He chuckled. "Then, perhaps you should give yourself more credit, fair one. Anyone who is blessed with sight recognizes you as Persephone, daughter of Demeter." _

_The strange god then had the audacity to touch her cheek. She furrowed her brows, her anger rising by the second. _

_Was it not enough that he toyed with her while he knew full well of her identity, must he be _that_ shameless as to touch her without her permission as well? _

_Colours rose to her cheeks. _

_Why the nerve of that… that _**fiend**_?_

_Outraged, the nymph-like goddess was just about to open her pretty mouth and deliver him a thorough bout of tongue-lashing when he condescendingly placed his rough index finger on her lips, effectively silencing her outrage before she could even voice them. _

_Her eyes widened in disbelief of his sheer lack of shame but the God in question paid her no heed and had merely flashed her a devilishly handsome smirk without removing his finger. She fisted her knuckles, feeling the insane urge to bite off that offending digit as she noticed that his smirk had only broadened._

"_You are Kore*, _**my**_ beautiful maiden."_

_The bristled goddess fought hard to keep the blush at bay. That settles it Hades, the supposed cold-hearted bastard (mortals' words, not hers) who feeds on despair and fear, was nothing more than a pervert!_

_She smacked him on the head. "Stop implying that I'm some sort of property," she hollered with fire dancing in her eyes._

* * *

XXX

"What_ is this place?" she asked in astonishment as she eyed the various exotic floras decorating the vast landscape before her. This was by far, the last thing on her mind when Hades told her that he'd be taking her on a sight-seeing trip in the Underworld._

_ In front of her lay bushes and shrubs of the dead realm, their flowers varying between hues of golden russet and flushed scarlet as red as the bleeding sun while ripe fruits dipped low from the tree branches. _

_Old habits die hard as her natural instincts as a goddess of the Earth had her reaching for the thriving plant life._

_ "They told me that nothing ever grows here," she murmured in disbelief. Never in her life had she expected to see life thrive in the underworld. _

_She nimbly plucked a small red fruit seconds away from biting into its flesh when the powerful God beside her, snatched it away from her and tucked it inside his tunic's pocket. _

_She shot him a dark look, demanding her fruit back and a logical explanation but received none. She frowned. "Oi, get **your** own fruit," she grumbled._

_ Beside her, the handsome God merely chuckled and leaned in closer to her ear. "You'll be surprised, Kore about the wonders," he paused, silently twisting a crimson flower off its branch and slid it in place behind her ear. "And __**dangers**__ of nature lying untouched here."_

_His words sent a shiver down her spines, butterflies fluttered in her stomach._

_ The fruit was all but forgotten. _

_His fingers had then reached unbidden and tilted her chin upwards, meshing his heated gaze upon her deep cerulean eyes. _

_She looked deep into his butterscotch eyes and saw everything. Lust, love, adoration and a plethora of other emotions were there and Zeus, the positively melting look he was giving her was enough to make her weak in her knees and there was no stopping the flushing red from seeping on to her flawless skin._

_She gulped._

_When he looked at her like that, he had an amazing ability to hypnotize her, make her forget who she was and where she was. _

_When he looked her in the eyes with that look, he made everything else around them simply fade into the background. _

_When he looked at her like that, she couldn't help but feel an intricate pull of threads interweaving through their fates, their souls, and their future. _

_Her breath hitched when he pulled her flush against him._

_He was dangerous, she knew, the fire that Mother warned her to stay away from, but nature dictated that she was a moth and moths were never able to resist the calling of fire. _

_It was folly to think that she would be an exception, having already been completely magnetized by her flame's nature and allure. _

_His all-consuming fire was maddening but it was home. _

_**Her** home._

_**Her** heart._

_**Her** everything._

"_These are the borders of the Elysian Fields. Beyond it lays the fields themselves. It is said that the wonders beheld there can't be found anywhere else," he said quietly, never once shifting his gaze away._

_ "Not even on Mount Olympus?" she enquired in a breathless manner._

_ "Not even on Mount Olympus," reiterated Hades confidently before he dived in and captured her luscious lips perfectly._

_ Heat and sparks ran amok in her system before settling in between her legs, rendering her aflame with desires. The only thing that seemed to matter to her now was the fact that the attraction was apparently mutual._

* * *

XXX

_Silently, she had crept onto his side of the bed. Her eyes shining in the dark as a sliver of silver moonbeam escaped the notice of the drape curtains. Straddling him, she pressed a kiss against his hot naked skin and gingerly placed her hand upon his beating heart. _

_ "Hades," she began. Her voice was no louder than a whisper, but still he awoke at her behest. _

_ "Yes, Kore," he called out bleary-eyed and slowly propped himself up to face his svelte lover, covered only by the thin bed sheet they slept on. Every dip and curve of her petite but womanly figure was pressed against him and in the comfortable ambience of the room; he couldn't help but feel a swell in his heart. _

_Love balanced with lust was such a foreign but yet familiar feeling when she was by his side. _

_ He tapped her delicate nose, a satisfied smile upon his lips. "I'm listening."_

_ She ended up burying herself headfirst into his embrace, inhaling a deep whiff of musk and cinnamon as she rested her head in the crook of his broad shoulders wordlessly._

_ Her lover frowned. Something was bothering her and that prideful little vixen of his wouldn't let him in on it. The frown deepened on his face. _

_He hated this sense of helplessness. _

_"What is it?"_

_ She didn't reply and only burrowed herself deeper into his embrace. _

_ He wrapped an arm along her slim waist and simply lay down in silence with her snug in his embrace. Casting his sight downwards, he was not surprised to find her hands clenched into small, tight-bundled fists. The God sighed as he understood the distress at hand._

_ Oddly enough, there was no conflict in his body, mind and soul when he calmly took hold of her dainty fingers and whispered endearingly into her right ear, "**Ichigo**."_

_ The puzzled woman eased out of his tightening embrace to stare questioningly at him. He rolled his eyes, confident of her knowing exactly what he meant by the words. And his Kore most certainly did not disappoint. Her reflective eyes conveyed shock while it took her awhile to choke out her reply._

"_Did you really just tell me what I think you just told me?" she asked quietly._

_Peering into her windows to the soul, he nodded resolutely. Her chest began heaving, seemingly bewildered by his actions. _

_He didn't blame her, to be perfectly honest; he was a bit shocked by his own honesty as well. _

_It was common knowledge that the Gods and Goddesses guarded their true names zealously. The knowledge of the true name of a deity would meant total control over them. _

_To this date, he wasn't sure whether there was any immortal brave or stupid (it all depends on your perspective really) to share their true name with some other being, especially another deity. _

_Control was a very delicate thing and being a God of Underworld, secrets like this were precious to him. _

_He never thought that there would come a day when he would readily relinquish his true name without the slightest bit of concern. _

_But he credited it to the Goddess in his arms, the one who had the remarkable ability to drive him to commit these dangerous and outrageous acts. _

_Because he trusted her unconditionally; but he wasn't quite prepared to tell _that_ to her just yet. _

_A revelation of his true name was one thing but a love declaration? _

_He shook his head inwardly; manly Gods just don't do love declarations. It would completely ruin his image and reputation. _

_ Disregarding her silence, he began the task of uncurling her little digits taciturnly. "Nobody is ever going to take you away from me, Kore," he whispered as he gently held her outstretched palms and entwined them with his own slender fingers. _

_ His Kore did not give any reply, but yet his sensitive ears had caught hold of a relieved sigh when he uttered the words. She squeezed their laced hands and tenderly brushed her lips against it, looking deep into his eyes as she did. _

_ This moment was for them, him and her exclusively. This love bind was permanent, everlasting because of them. And for that, he will defy and fight whoever it was that came between them, be it mortal or his brother himself._

_ With that, he plopped her down on his lap with their fingers still entwined. Sleep enveloped them the very moment they shut their eyes in perfect contentment with each other's company._

* * *

XXX

Even the God of Underworld, one who is rumored to be as cold-blooded as fishes and snakes feel sorrow. The room was dark and cold. Kneeling beside his unconscious lover as she remained trapped in the realm of dreams, the lord of the realm was wearing his traditional black robes and remained dolefully silent, forgoing sleep and food.

This was already the 3rd day.

Unblinkingly, he traced the curve of her face with his callous index finger, trying to memorize every exquisite detail about her lovely visage. The skin underneath his rough pad was smooth and soft, like silk but ever more flawless if possible. She was beautiful, breathtakingly so. Compared to the other goddesses of the realm, she was plain but yet, exotic; different from the tall, seductive divinities that were auburns, blondes or redheads.

His Kore was a raven-haired beauty with porcelain skin as pure as snow and a pair of bewitching purple-indigo irises for eyes. Even as she stood on her tiptoes, she barely came to his shoulders but her refreshing personality and her sharp wits had more than made up for her lack in height.

She was svelte where her counterparts were voluptuous, more gamine and petite than curvaceous and tall, more of the effortless elegance than the casually seductive.

The brooding God clenched his fists. It enraged him to see the multitude of wounds and scars covering her lithe form as she lied on her bed, unconscious and battered.

The slice on her arms, the rip in her cloths, the smell of her blood came to his mind when he recalled the scene where he last saw her, barely breathing and lying in her own pool of blood.

She was his and he would sooner die than allow anyone else to hurt her or take her away from him.

The only thing he forgot to take into account was that he could be the one who was hurting her the most in the end.

His heart tugged painfully. It killed him to know that he was the culprit who inflicted the worst damages to his Kore, not annoyingly self-righteous Ares but him, the one who supposedly loves her. He doesn't deserve her.

Maybe Ares was right in saying that he should let her go. He was the one who gave her all these scars, pain and despair.

How could you hurt someone who you claim to love with every fibre of your being and soul?

* * *

"_I-chi-go?"_

* * *

XXX

He was jolted out of his self-loath as if a streak of lightning had struck him. It was invigorating like he had pure energy flowing through his veins. His soul was singing. Ambrosia, nectar; no, none of the food of the gods could give him this sense of euphoria and peace. He felt calm, at ease, rejuvenated…

Happy and loved?

She had called him by his true name- the first words to pass through her ruby red lips as she woke up. It was a sign. He somehow understood that she was not willing to let _this_ go, to let them go, and he'll be damned if he gave up on this relationship before she did.

* * *

_I won't let you go._

* * *

XXX

The three syllables came so naturally to her tongue that she didn't even notice it until he stared wide-eyed at her and pointed it out. It was the first thing that came to her mind as she found herself disorientated and lethargically lying on a plush king-sized mattress. He was kneeling there, right beside her, looking miserable and anguished.

The disjointed name gave her strength to reach out and comfort him, became the foundation for her to call out her strength to heal. It brought her memories, reminded her of life, pulled her from the confinements of uncertainty and gave her a purpose.

She repeated his name yet again. This time, the name came rolling from her tongue with natural ease as a whole.

Through the black spots on her vision, it took her awhile to see that he was smiling; genuinely smiling and her brain seemed to have seized to function at this point.

The word made her feel safe and sane, just like how he does with her on a regular basis. Weakly she pulled herself into an upright position, leaning heavily against the headboard as she did. He cleared his throat, standing up momentarily to place a feather pillow behind her before resuming his original position.

"How are you feeling?" he asked; his raw voice drawling out quietly as he placed her cold hands on his cheeks. Her sense of touch was regained as she felt the pricks of unshaved whiskers on her fingers.

She shut her eyes, feeling a sudden wave of nausea and tugged at his hands, demanding to he join her on the bed.

She didn't like how raspy and sick her voice sounded when she finally found the strength to answer. "Like I've been ran over by a Minotaur and Apollo's chariot," she groaned, clutching her head tenderly as she winced.

Hades sat by the bedside and wordlessly passed her the flask of ambrosia lying on the nightstand. The petite divinity gulped down the contents and her lover breathed a sigh of relief as he saw a spark of life returned to her glassy eyes as he tucked her under the covers.

There was so much he wanted to tell her, but the years of silence and solitude he spent in the Underworld had not helped his eloquence when it involves the matters of heart. Instead he simply tucked her stray band behind her ears, pressed a tender kiss upon her forehead and made a move to leave.

"Wait," she called out desperately as she took hold of his sleeves. Exhaustion was creeping into usually her dulcet voice and he tried hard not to let his worry show. His Kore didn't like the idea of him fussing over her much and given the situation, he didn't want to upset her so he obliged, keeping his face as emotionless as a marble statue.

Her brown-eyed lover was noticeably haggard as he once again set himself down onto the bed. If she had the energy to roll her eyes, she would. It was so typical of him to bottle up all his emotions and gloom for her sake, very masochist and stupid; but yet surprisingly endearing.

When was he ever going to realize that she was going to be there for him, with him, beside him every step of the way?

And that she wanted this relationship as much as he did?

Zeus, she fell in love with an idiot.

A hotheaded idiot who didn't know just how much she loves him and how much she was willing to sacrifice to have a future with him.

XXX

"Ichigo," she called out softly. The way his true name rolled from her tongue made his breath catch.

"Yes?" he asked huskily, expecting something along the lines of 'please don't leave me' or even 'I'm scared' coming from his goddess.

So she likes to act tough, but deep down inside, the sovereign knows she's just like every other woman.

They need to be cherished, taken care of, lov-

"You're an idiot," she finished bluntly as she swatted him on the forearm.

He took whatever he had said earlier back. He had forgotten that his Kore wasn't exactly 'just like every other woman'.

No, he amended darkly, she's a vicious little, too seductive for her own good _demonette_ in the making.

XXX

And apparently she was only just starting on her tirade. Her glare intensified and it zeroed in on him mercilessly.

"How dare you go around my back and keep me in the dark about Ares's arrival? We grew up together and what with Mother throwing her hissy fit because I was _kidnapped_, I would expect you to do something to get on his good side, instead of mucking the whole af-"

But he figured out quite a while ago that the best way to end her tirade was to kiss her.

He captured her red lips with perfect ease. Her momentary shock allowed him entrance and he did not wait to exploit his opportunity. He poured love and affection, lust and attraction, guilt and pride- a well known assortment of emotional conflicts and combinations that had been gnawing at him ever since they met; sentiments, that he hoped she experienced just as badly on her end. This love for her was illogical and insane, dangerous even but it was also so riveting and rational at the same time.

Right, his mind had evidently ceased to make sense the very moment they latched on hers, so why was he even bothering anyways?

When they broke away from the ferocious lip-lock, they were both sporting a light lean of sweat, chest heaving but wry grins on their faces. He felt a surge of pride as he saw how thoroughly kissed her swollen lips were and how her cheeks had taken on a healthy and rosy hue.

He did that to her, and he'll kill every single vermin/scum who dared to try it on her.

She was his, despite her loud protests, they both knew that.

He flashed her yet another devilish smirk and she glared at him hotly. "Don't even **think** of wiggling your way out of this one," she said through grounded teeth.

The smirks broadened on his face. "Wouldn't dream of it, Kore."

Oh yes, she was his little violet-eyed spitfire with an attitude to match that sharp tongue of hers. He wouldn't trade her for Mount Olympus itself.

"It's not _Kore_, Ichigo," replied the spitfire indignantly. "I'm _**Rukia**_," she announced. "Repeat after me: Roo-**KEY**-ah."

His brown eyes widened significantly but the look of surprise had quickly faded as he smiled at her fondly, "Ah," he mumbled. Figured that his Kore would turn out to have such a beautiful name; it suited her. Beautiful _and_ poignant.

It was perfect.

He smiled genuinely and without a second thought repeated the name.

"Ru-kia," he whispered tenderly, liking the ease of how natural and easy her name sounded from his mouth. "The light of my life."

She raised an eyebrow. "Is that a love confession I hear, _Hades_?" she teased.

He parried the question with a well-aimed answer. "Do you want it to be, _Kore_?"

Rukia snorted. "Well, before you start showering me with the declarations of undying affections and love, which you obviously will; I would prefer it if you could come up with some way of making my stay here permanent."

_With you._

Her wicked lord of the realm chuckled amusingly. "And if I were to tell you, I have already found the solution," he challenged.

Her beautiful eyes sparkled as she met his gaze evenly. "Then I'll call your bluff," she shot back smugly.

"Read me and weep," he replied; his husky voice a low murmur and his eyes dancing as he slowly lifted the crimson-hued pomegranate fruit out from his deep pockets and placed it gingerly in her hands.

* * *

Author's Note:

LOL! I tried 'angst' and 'dark'. Believe me I did, but well let's just say I'm a sucker for happy endings. Epic fail at angst and other dark fics. XD

*Kore is another name for the greek goddess, Persephone. It also means 'maiden' in Greek. :D

I feel that Ichigo would make a very sexy rendition of the name. ;P

Inspired by: Kubo saying that 'Rukia is created as Ichigo's light' or something along the lines and the fact that **darklover **wanted a good Greek myth.

*Shrugs* It made sense to go for the most well-known myth and 'vandalize' it. XD


	5. V: Ever After

Title: Ever After

Setting: AU

Rating: MA

Prompt: Beauty and the Beast from **darklover **and a werewolf Ichigo for **pamianime**

Summary: Because in truth, the Beast had it easy while Beauty was irrevocably cursed to have a Beast as a husband. Some happily ever afters are far from perfect.

Disclaimer: Fill in the blanks- Bleach does _ belong to me. ;P

* * *

**Ever After**

XXX

The raven-haired beauty made her way into their bedchamber with a scowl on her red lips and her eyebrows furrowed in obvious displeasure. Stomping her way menacingly into the dark room, she slammed the oaken double doors shut before making her way to her rosewood vanity.

The nerve of that man, she hissed menacingly as she lit the candle. To think that he would allow himself to be caged and chained like a common beast when he was in fact the Lord of their castle and estate, the man who shares her bed and her lord husband who had the undisputed claim to her heart.

Just how could he do this to himself?

To her?

The woman frowned. The Enchantress had her laugh and the Prince learnt his lesson. His curse was broken when she found herself in love with him despite his outward appearance as a hulking Beast.

And when Rukia Kurosaki _née_ Kuchiki told the world that she loves the Beast for all his ugliness and shortcomings, she had bloody well meant it!

XXX

Rukia growled, hastily removing her pearl earrings while gazing into her reflection in the mirror. She saw a woman with such a petite stature, that she could have been mistaken for a child, she was blessed with flawless skin but they were a shade too white to be healthy.

Her violet eyes were almond-shaped, but were a colour too rare and a shape with too much cat-like resemblance to be pretty. Worse still, her delicate fingers touched her red lips and delivered the crippling blow of how the juxtaposition of her red lips, pale skin and midnight black curls were too strong and eerie of a contrast for her to be even considered remotely of mortal descent.

No, she scoffed. She was a Halfling at best, her blood was tainted with the Fae's magic and only her father's human lineage had been able to protect them from the full-effects of the curse.

She sighed.

The only Monster in their presence was **her**.

XXX

The porcelain-skinned maiden had told him her life's story, giving him the unabridged version of how and what their lives would be should he marry her. With a soft but lilting alto, she offered him the bits and pieces of her life before she came to his castle, of her true identity as the offspring of a powerful Fae and a mortal king, how she was entrusted to the care of malicious Fae who plotted to marry her father by having her killed and finally, of how she had escaped her plight by the skin of her teeth when she assumed the identity of a dead merchant's daughter, but not before a terrible curse was placed upon her.

You see, the two made quite a pair. While Lord Ichigo Kurosaki was cursed to remain as an ugly Beast until he learnt his lesson of being humble, his future wife was **irrevocably** cursed to have a Beast as a husband.

Rukia withheld nothing and informed him rather explicitly that should he wed her, he would have been throwing away his chance at happily ever after.

* * *

XXX

"_So you're telling me, that if I marry you, I will be cursed to turn into and remain the Beast I was before you broke the spell?" he enquired with no small measure of disbelief lacing his tone. _

_The elfin lady before him fidgeted before begrudgingly nodding. Rukia bit her lips before replying, "Maybe not the __same__ Beast as you were before, but yes, you will turn into a Beast. The curse is potent and since I'm a Fae, or at the very least, a Halfling" she shrugged, trying to be brave. _

"_There's no remedy to counter the curse."_

_The orange-haired man had nodded solemnly, a fierce scowl on his lips and the young maiden could almost feel her heart sinking in melancholy. Ichigo will not want to marry her now, not when he had waited so long to regain his human form and a shred of normality in his life. _

"_In that case," said Ichigo as he fixed his honey brown eyes on hers. "Rukia Kuchiki," he sighed softly and Rukia could only shut her eyes awaiting the final blow._

"_Marry me."_

XXX

_Her eyes fluttered open, revealing a pair of shocked cerulean blues. "W-W-What?" she croaked, utterly flabbergasted as she saw the man who regarded her with a look so tender that it could only be love._

_Ichigo carefully tucked the perpetual stray strand between her eyes behind her left ear. His brown eyes were alive and scintillating. "I want you to marry me," he whispered as he cupped her cheeks, reveling in the feel of her soft skin and the sight of her brilliant violets._

_She frowned, quirking an eyebrow. "Why?"_

_Her fiancée snorted. "Oh, so you love me enough to look beyond my outward appearance and I can't do the same for you? I have never figured you would be one for such hypocrisy, Rukia." _

_She opened her mouth to protest but stopped short, her breath caught as he placed a warm finger on her plump lips, effectively silencing her protests. _

"_I'll marry you in a heartbeat if you will have me, Rukia Kuchiki. I love you as much as you love me, even if you might find that a bit hard to believe. And to be perfectly honest," he flashed a devilish smirk then, if she were a weaker woman, Rukia's knees would have buckled. "I do quite miss my old form, at least then, no one really expected me to have any manners."_

_The petite woman had laughed mirthfully then before reaching for his callous hands and wordlessly, interlaced their fingers. The grin on her handsome betrothed's face mirrored hers. _

"_So that's it then? No regrets on having me and no turning back?" she asked, a coy smile playing upon her lips._

_Their gazes interlocked and the intensity of it was glaringly heavy. He rested his forehead gently against hers. "I won't if you won't," he replied, giving their entwined fingers a squeeze as he did._

"_Good." _

_She finished simply before kissing him on the lips._

* * *

XXX

She had fully expected a gloomy overcast sky with the ominous lightning and thunder on her wedding day. It would have been fitting for such a sobering event to come with such lugubrious weather.

It was both her wedding day and the day she indirectly placed a curse on her lord husband. She could be seen nervously pacing in her room with her white and lace-trimmed wedding gown, fiddling with her ivory veil as the guests arrived.

However, it would soon appear that her predictions were baseless. The sky was a hue of lazuline and azure, the puffy white clouds were rolling by without a care in the world and the sun was bright and dazzling. It was the perfect October morning and the wedding was the perfect wedding she had dreamed of.

There was no mystical mist of dark purple as she said her vows and slid the gleaming signet ring onto his finger, nor was he suddenly enveloped in shadows and turned into a hulking 7 feet monster when he said 'I do'.

She did not have to direct hysterical guests to emergency exits and she had never felt happier when he kissed her, as his wife, Rukia Kurosaki.

Perhaps, she had naively believed that their love had been strong enough to triumph over the hold of the magic curse, but time soon proved that her fears were well-founded.

On the night of the full moon on the first week of their marriage, her lord husband had turned into an oversized Beast with glimmering yellow slits.

Towering over her, he became an animal covered with russet-toned fur, soft matted and entangled but armed with a vicious set of claws and teeth, so sharp that it drew blood with just a prick.

* * *

_Loup-garou*._

* * *

XXX

Her husband became a Wolf.

* * *

XXX

"A penny for your thoughts?" came the husky baritone voice behind her and she sniffed at his reflection in the mirror; her frown immediately evident.

His fiery mane looked soft under the faint glow of the candles; his face partially hidden by shadows, a bit like a metaphor of his eventful life, she mused. No matter what they do and how they try to change certain things, there will always be a part of him shrouded in darkness.

Part of her wondered if his curse was really broken at all, it seemed sometimes pre-destined in her eyes of how there will always be a Beast present in his skin, lurking somewhere in his immortal soul, lost even to her touches and part of her will always be blaming herself for condemning him to become what he is.

She felt the weight of his lips on her shoulder and jolted out her reverie.

"I thought I told you to sleep in the guestroom," she said coldly, trying desperately to stop her toes from curling when he kissed the junction between her neck and shoulders.

No, she reminded herself that she was angry at her brazen-haired husband and he deserved her cold shoulder, figuratively speaking that is.

"The bed feels cold without you," he mumbled, his adroit fingers already unbuttoning the row of buttons on the back of her evening dress. He liked seeing her in soft-hued colours like pastels and creams but frankly, his wife looked best when she is wearing nothing but naked skin underneath him.

Her breath hitched and there was no disguising the smirk on his face when he scraped his teeth against the side of her throat, her pulse point pulsated strongly. She mentally berated herself for wearing an open-necked chemise for the evening.

Annoyed, she whirled around to face him.

"Stop it," she hissed dangerously, her voice a cross between a heated whisper and a wrathful growl.

He met her gaze head-on and with a slight tilt of his head, asked innocently.

"Stop what?"

His wife fixed him with a glare so stern, it would have left a weaker soul howling for their mother. But Ichigo Kurosaki knew his wife like the back of his palm and unabashedly wormed his way further under her porcelain skin, riling her up until her anger was erupting like molten lava.

"Touching me," the woman's eyes narrowed as she hissed her displeasure.

Her lord husband feigned a look of utter innocence.

She snorted. The back of her creamed-tulle gown was half-way unbuttoned and her husband was far from being a convincing actor.

"Leave," she commanded sulkily. "I don't have the patience to deal with an egotistical fool tonight," she snapped before turning to glare at her mirror resolutely.

Ichigo's face contorted into a frown. "I know not of this egotistical fool that you speak of. Perhaps you could show me, I'll be more than happy to teach him a lesson," he murmured with a sensual drawl before leaving butterfly kisses trailing down the side of her throat.

His wife was positively moaning at the luxurious sensation, instinctively arching her back against his to offer him more of the delectable pearled flesh. The delicious sound made his senses come to life and down his nether regions, a hot molten want and rush of carnal desire coursed through his veins, he was just itching to have his way with her.

Only to have his petite wife shoving against his chest and with one particularly vicious push, the powerful lord found himself sitting on the wooden flooring.

It was however, completely worth it in his opinion, when he saw that her pale skin was now flushed and her chest heaving from their exertion. Her neat chignon was in severe disarray and her eyes were almost glassy with lust.

There was no denying that his lovely wife desired him every bit as he wanted her and that knowledge made him smirk.

XXX

"You're incorrigible," she muttered nastily as she turned back to face her reflection in the mirror, trying rather futilely to calm her tersely beating heart. Her dainty hands reaching for the many small hair pins that kept her chignon in place, but they were shaking.

Rukia prayed that her husband did not notice the shivering fingers. With a few sharp tugs, her hair was undone and inky black strands came tumbling down from the coiffure to frame her delicate heart-shaped face.

Her husband was looking at her with unfathomable eyes in the vanity mirror, his smirk still firmly in place but Rukia ignored him, unconfident about her ability to speak, let alone rebut his comments. Instead, she urged her shaking fingers to reach for her jeweled comb, gently sliding the object through her messy hair.

Mid-stroke however, she found her fingers being tentatively pried open. Looking at his reflection, she saw the determined furrow on her husband's brow and reluctantly allowed him to take charge.

Going down on his knees, the man in her heart had taken over the task with relative ease, applying just the right amount of pressure to relax her mind and soothe her agitated nerves.

Completely surrendering control over her senses, the black-haired lady could feel the teeth of the treasured comb massaging into her scalp soothingly, separating the entangled strands and brushing the individual locks with utmost attention.

"This burden of yours," she began as her husband became absorbed in his new task, "is not for you to bear alone."

Her man grunted in reply and Rukia pursed her lips in annoyance. "You don't have to shoulder your burden alone. This pain," she reached for his hand and wrestled the comb away from his tight grasp, setting in on the table with a dull thud.

Amethyst irises interlocked with their amber counterparts as she turned to face her kneeling husband. Grasping both sides of his face, she planted a small kiss on his right cheek while gazing into his eyes.

XXX

"This pain," she reiterated, "exists because of me." She reached for his left hand, bringing it up to rest on her heart. "Let me share this burden. It belongs rightfully to me," she whispered huskily before her nimble fingers began tugging at the front of his brown and silver doublet.

His large warm hands stilled her movements. Looking deep into her eyes, he saw the primal urge for warmth and the need for skin to meld against skin laced with the compassion and love she held for him. "It's a full moon tonight," his voice was husky and hoarse, his control slipping by the minute as he fell deeper under the spell of her hypnotic eyes.

She drew him close to her sylph-like body and felt his strong arms snaking around her narrow waist while he was fighting the urge to reach for the row of half-undone buttons and simply rip them to their seams. "I know," she whispered breathlessly.

"I will not allow you to be injured because of _my_ selfish desires," he grounded out through clenched teeth, shifting his gaze away from her eyes. His hands now rested on her hips and through the silky material, he felt her cool skin, knew them to be unblemished and smooth to the touch.

To have her now, would mean subjecting her to bruises and cuts later and despite how gentle he wished to be with her, his Beast and wolfish urges were difficult to reign in. He could control them but only to a certain extent and he had seen enough dark bruises on her pliant body to know how his limited his control is in reality.

She rolled her eyes and in a sultry tone replied, "At the very least, you could finish what you started, fool."

He frowned, his gaze still firmly set on her dress. "I was not trying to seduce you into bed with me just now," he mumbled.

"Oh of course you were _not_, Your Highness," she said sarcastically, her saccharine tone was venom most foul to her husband. "I do not doubt your _honourable_ intentions, my most _honourable_ husband. You are simply too _honourable_ to have such designs on your wife. Why I daresay t-"

XXX

Her incessant prattle were grating on his frayed nerves and impulsively, he quieted her ramblings by latching and delivering a soul-wrenching, mind-numbing and fireworks-worthy kiss upon her waiting lips. There was an explosion of senses as she responded fervently to his kiss. She leaned closer to him, desperate for his scalding warmth and the feel of his sweet caresses.

Dear God, she was insatiable. When they finally broke apart for air, he had quickly found his hands hopelessly entangled in her black locks, her slender legs wrapped snugly around his waist. His doublet was conspicuously a few buttons short and his white cotton undershirt was visible. Her lips were plump and bruised from kissing and her eyes were burning with such intensity that he could only oblige to her every demand.

Rukia stared at him, noticing how his hands were clenched on the sides of her dress and how his eyes were consumed with need and want, but hindered by his inability to act on them due to his concern.

Biting on her lower lip, she made her move.

Unbuttoning the rest of the jacket, she languidly shrugged it off his broad shoulders. His grip on her dress tightened. Her cold fingers came into brief contact with the undershirt before prying it off as well. Her husband's well-sculpted muscles came into view and she had to steady her hands lest they started shuddering.

Pressing her lips delicately on his pectorals, she splayed her hands on his heated skin and trailed her fingers tantalizingly across the defined abdominals. She paused momentarily at his heart, stilling her fingers before resuming her leisure exploration on the fine contours of his lean torso.

The dainty digits travelled down south until they reached his navel. Flashing her lover a coy look, the seductress reached for the fly on his breeches, wordlessly slipping her hands into them and gently grasped his hardening manhood. She stroked the lengthy member, his engorged shaft alive and jumping at her sinful ministrations.

His eyes rolled to the back of his head, his breathings were labored, his entire being only one pitiful step away from pouncing on his wife. He couldn't stop his guttural moan of pleasure, and could only watch on helplessly she rose to her full height, towering over his kneeling form.

He whimpered from the lost of contact when the enveloping warmth surrounding his appendage was withdrawn and felt his heart stop at the erotic sight of his beloved licking and sucking his cum noisily from her fingers. His breeches were unbearably tight.

* * *

_Tease_.

* * *

XXX

She watched as his Adam's apple bobbed, her lips curled into a salacious smirk. His face was now on eye-level with her décolletage. Peering up, he saw her smoky eyelashes, her violet-tinted eyes and simply stared in fascination, as she parted her ruby red lips, licking them as she spoke. Her voice was sultry and needy, uttering a breathless command that only he could fulfill.

"Undress me."

He was spurred into action. In a blink of an eye, she found her dress ripped and the ruined creation of silk and lace pooled around her feet. She hissed at the feel of the cold air as she was left in her silk chemise, but was granted her reprieve when she was pulled towards a warm body of fire and passion.

Skin met skin as she was pressed fully against her lover, his hips grinding against hers, the impatient member burning against her inner thigh in a bid to assuage to his encompassing need.

Desire was running amok through her system when he claimed her moaning lips into a searing kiss.

With both hands grasping the hem of the flimsy gown, Ichigo wasted no time in wrenching it away from her delightful body.

The sight of her bare breasts stirred his loins. There was no hesitation was he latched on greedily, suckling and occasionally scraping his teeth against the rose bud until it was taut and stood to attention; his voracious hand fondling another, playing, teasing and tweaking the nipple until it hardened.

His lordship's smirk widened. How fast the tables were turned as his delicate wife began moaning wantonly above him. Her fingers dug into his scalp, gripping and tugging at his unruly strands as she grew weightless. His warm orifice still latching possessively on her mound, his hands charted her alabaster skin like a map and he the Captain of the vessel and he was damn covetous on his explorations.

His warm, callous hands were an exquisite torture on her translucent skin; his dexterous fingers drew lazy circles as they found their way down to her lower back, groping her plump derrière before setting her on the wooden table. Honey brown eyes darkened with lust as he lifted his mouth from her flushed and swollen breasts, a faint trail of saliva still connecting them.

Ichigo stared at the disheveled woman before him in obvious amusement. Thoroughly kissed and properly caressed, rosy skin and taut nipples, glazed eyes and flailing limbs she was his wet dream come true. Smirking, he began gripping her hips, spreading them wide apart before languidly inserting a digit or two into her moist folds.

His woman's reactions were instantaneous. Bucking wildly into his waiting hands, she writhed and groaned, mumbling nonsensical things as her face contorted into a mask of divine ecstasy. "Nngghh," she moaned, her muscles clenching in her throbbing clit as his skillful fingers thrust into her slick heat, mimicking what he would be doing to her with his _other_ appendage later on.

It was a promise and Ichigo Kurosaki never broke his.

XXX

Her breath hitched, her sanity teetering on the edge as she struggled to stay afloat in a world of hazy desires. Her precarious balance on the wooden table was worsening by the second as the need for release become all-consuming. Fingernails raked across his lower back, leaving angry red marks as she gyrated against his adroit fingers and warm hand.

Slick heat tightened into a knot of rapacious need and she could feel her core shuddering, no screaming for her liberation. She needed to soar, to break free, but her lover was not one to comply with such demands. He was teasing her; lavishing her with affection but withholding from her the salvation.

* * *

_Closer._

_Faster._

_Stronger._

* * *

XXX

She was barely aware of her lover lifting her aching body from the uncomfortable wooden platform on to their teratoid four-poster bed. Spread on her back, her dark hair spilled like flowing water on their crimson bed sheets. She watched in impatience as he began to unbuckle his breeches and removing his undergarments.

Finally, he joined her on their bed, his proud member glistened and she would have cooed at the delicious sight had she regained her voice. Amethyst eyes stared deep into her lover's amber irises, the depth of his lust and love simply threatening to swallow her whole.

And swallow her, he did.

XXX

Any resemblance of coherent thoughts fled from her mind as his meaty appendage sheathed deep within her. Her slender limbs wrapped themselves around his waist out of their own accord as he began pounding into her weeping core. Liquid fire burned her and she could only tighten her snug grip on him like he was an anchor to reality, the missing piece to all her incompleteness.

Lying underneath him, she met him thrust for thrust; their conjoined bodies falling into a rhythm of fast-building tempo. She was left feeling hollow when he withdrew from her core but then he sheathed himself right to the hilt within her, she felt weightless and all was right in the world. It was repeated routine that was familiar to their well-versed senses.

Their coupling was both messy and elegant, both innocent and carnal, a passionate affair of pain and pleasure; the perfect meeting of minds and the primal meeting of flesh as they writhed and thrust against each other.

Pinned below his masculine muscles and manly pride, she was nothing but a dam; the pressure within her building and rose to a crescendo, now just bursting for an opening to be free. Above her, he was the taut strings of a bow.

In the dark, far-end corners of his mind he could hear a wolf howling and he knew it was not a figment of his imagination.

The moon was almost at the highest point of the heavenly night sky and he could feel the pull on his Beast by the celestial body.

He urged himself to go faster.

* * *

_Allegro, veloce …_

_Faster and faster._

* * *

XXX

She broke free.

She screamed in abandonment as her descended from the culminating peak. Her mind was practically roaring as she battled the sweeping waves of building pressure. Bright light flooded her senses as her concupiscence eventually drove her to the edge of sanity. Her body shuddered and heaved, the climax made her gush like a fountain. His liberation followed hers in matter of seconds with a dark growl.

Still recovering from her euphoric high, the dark-haired lady could feel the waves of agitation and the shadows dancing around her afflicted lover, enveloping him in a shroud of unnamed darkness as he fought to retain his humanity.

It was a losing battle and the line separating man and Beast was blurring. With a piercing howl, he shifted.

The sound of bones and muscles growing, extending, snapping and twisting filled the room. In morbid fascination, she watched as his skin became covered under a dark coat of russet gold until his face was visible underneath it all. His teeth grew pointed, fingernails sharpened to form claws. Eerily, a pair of wolf's ear was formed and his nose reformed into a snout.

When he finally opened his eyes, they were yellow flints and specks of amber. The man-creature looked at her and Rukia watched with numbness as it approached her, hunger evident in his bright eyes.

XXX

Underneath it all, it was still Ichigo.

* * *

Author's Note:

The darkest chapter of the whole collection, I think. I guess exams have a way of screwing us up in the head until we're all nuts and cuckoo. Interpret the last line in any way you want. I don't mind.

*Loup-garou: tems from the French word of the same spelling which also means werewolf. It just seemed fitting.

XXX

To **darklover-chan**,

It's a bit dark and angsty. Completely different from the Disney version, but I hope you don't mind. I'll reply to you as soon as I can.

To **panianime**,

The werewolf part was hard to write.

To **Empress Minea**,

It's an MA. *insert evil laughter*

To **wynnsy**,

You've been an incredibly helpful reader. Thank you for all your heart-felt reviews and since you disabled PMs, any chance I could dedicate a fic to you as thank you?

To **Black Sun Upon An Icy Sky**

I haven't forgotten about the Arabian theme. I just need some extra time. Gomenasai!

To **xxbooradleyxx**

Yes, a lemon, I kid you not, is really hard to write. No puns intended. ;P

To **all my readers**

Think of this chapter as a belated Halloween fic. I can't believe I missed it.

XXX

TRIVIA:

In the original French _La Belle et la Bête _by Gabrielle-Suzanne Barbot de Villeneuve, the Beast was a prince who lost his father at a young age, and whose mother had to wage war to defend his kingdom. The queen left him in care of an evil fairy, who tried to seduce him when he became an adult; when he refused, she transformed him into a beast.

Belle's story reveals that she is not really a merchant's daughter but the offspring of a king and a good fairy. The wicked fairy had tried to murder Belle so she could marry her father the king, and Belle was put in the place of the merchant's dead daughter to protect her.

_**Review!**_


	6. VI: Beyond the Land of Milk and Honey

Title: Beyond the Land of Milk and Honey

Setting: Arabian AU, pre-Islamic so it doesn't get any more AU than this

Rating: T (for now)

Summary: Theirs was a land so rich and beautiful, drenched so steeply in the colour red for love and passion, blood and war. A seeress, captured willingly; a Sheik, ensnared unknowingly; let the story begin.

Prompt: An Arabian themed one-shot, Ichigo is the leader of a nomadic tribe and Rukia is a captured seeress, and he takes her as his bride– **Black Sun Upon An Icy Sky**

Disclaimer: Fill in the blanks- Bleach does _ belong to me. ;P

* * *

**Beyond the Land of Milk and Honey**

XXX

The land beneath her was bleeding; a shade so red that it burned her eyes. It came from nowhere but swarmed from every direction possible, pooling about her slipper-clad feet until they too were stained crimson.

Her toes were soon coated in a thick layer of molten blood, so distinctively disgusting and uncomfortable that all she wanted was to run- to kick off her soiled slippers and just run. Yet, she remained immobile, even as the rancid odour of fresh blood and human waste invaded her nostrils; she stood rooted to the ground like a statue.

* * *

_The future._

* * *

XXX

She averted her stare only to be greeted by the sight of the numerous dead. Bile rose to her throat. The rumble of horse hooves, the clamor of steel against steel and the shouts of desperation and pain reverberated in her sensitive ears, an echo of the violent skirmish that has passed. Her lavender eyes saw soldiers of different nations- men, boys, fathers and brothers, sons and cousins- lying broken and lifeless on the gritty land.

Their empty stares, horror-stricken faces, gaping wounds that still dripped tepid blood. In life, they each had an identity, a name, a connection, a purpose; death robbed them of it all.

* * *

_Hopeless._

* * *

XXX

Pesky flies flitted from corpse to corpse, enjoying the feast in silence. Cast on the ground, were the shadows of vicious vultures, circling the air, some already swooping down and chewing the strips of flesh with relish. She suppressed a shudder, like demons in animals' clothing; their beady eyes held no warmth and were focused solely on her frozen stance, mocking and taunting her of the scene before her.

This was a vision. A prediction of events to come in the near future that she had no ways of stopping and preventing.

Her magic was powerless against it.

_And this is but the beginning,_ taunted the formless voices in obvious glee.

The future looked bleak indeed.

* * *

_So this is the future?_

* * *

XXX

A torrent of snowflakes, a flare of magic and the horrific scenes before her disappeared. Blinking, she found herself standing on dry land. Her feet were clean and she thought that she had never seen a sun so bright and dazzling.

"You cannot fight this with your magic," came a melodious voice behind her, and deftly, she turned to face the beautiful woman who had crept up behind her.

The lady stood tall and regal, draped in a shimmering gown of lavender and ivory. She possessed an ethereal beauty, easily alluding to her unworldly origins; something evident in her unblemished skin tone and delicate facial features. Her ageless face held sharp, angular cheekbones, a dainty nose, supple red lips and those long and curled eyelashes that easily flattered her femininity, but her eyes- the fabled windows to the soul, were the only ones that spoke of her indomitable and silent strength; that and her sweeping train of silver hair, white like the snow, trailing behind her.

Like ice over a frozen lake, her eyes were a vivid, scintillating hue of sapphire and when she spoke, a hint of the cold unforgiving chill lingered.

A will of iron and eyes of lucid blue, the Lady of Winter Moon and Patroness of the Seers and Prophets alike- Lady Shirayuki has made her appearance.

XXX

The girl blinked owlishly. "This?"

"Yes," replied the older woman, gliding as she made her way towards her young prodigy, "precisely **this**. The future as you saw it."

"**This** is a losing battle," the woman sighed. "Rukia," she beseeched, "You _must_ yield."

As her protégé, Rukia shared her patroness fair skin tone and various attributes; sharp, quick-witted, beautiful and equally as stubborn.

Big almond eyes narrowed. "The first and foremost rule in our world, My Lady is to never assume the future is set in stone." The frown on her face deepened. "You were the one who told me that. Visio-"

"Visions are but one set of possibilities, different outcomes are expected for the different decisions one makes. Death changes nothing; other candidates for the role of the Intended shall arise to fulfill the void and Destiny. The Intended is the only one truly capable of altering Destiny; a Guardian can only guide- a companion and mentor on the Intended's journey, but never the leader," finished the Goddess unperturbed, pale blue eyes set alit.

"You forget, child. I _wrote_ the Dogma," she seethed.

Rukia was far from finished. "Then, pray tell My Goddess. What makes **this** particular vision so different that even the Dogma cannot be applied?" she huffed.

Piercing blue eyes narrowed to slits. "Do not take that impertinent tone with me, child. Even as my power wanes, I am still a formidable foe if need be." Her magic flared about warningly but Rukia felt it was but a flicker compared to the Goddess's powers during the height of her power.

* * *

_Could it be?_

* * *

XXX

"You said that your powers are waning?" queried Rukia, the incredulous tone in her voice and her heart was suddenly hammering against her little chest.

Suddenly, the Goddess felt drained. Her millenniums'-worth of toiling about in the name of Fate and Destiny, advocate for the Future and now here she lies, old and broken, barely hanging on to life and the life of her Guardians especially that of her Champion, enshrouded in a mist that even she could not see.

She was old and dying. A bitter chuckle erupted.

"Do not you see or even feel it, my sweet child," she turned to cast her forlorn gaze at her young Seeress.

"I am dying."

The sentence echoed with finality in the solemn air. Rukia's mouth was suddenly dry and her world was no longer spinning on the axis.

"How could this be?"

XXX

Moons ago when she was but a child, her Goddess was untouchable- unbowed, unbent and unbroken. Cold and irreproachable at first glance, within she was the epitome of resilience and wisdom. Her magic was a dazzling show of fire within ice and would have seemed so powerful and lively, emitting from her, a radiant glow as bright as the morning sun; but now, the light that Rukia once saw was gone. The shine in her eyes had been dimming consistently as the seasons passed.

Shirayuki looked frail like an old dame and her skin, a deathly shade of white with her glow steadily diminishing like the setting sun in the west.

It wouldn't even last against the strong and cold winter wind.

Magic was dying and with it, the death of her fair patroness followed.

XXX

"How?" she murmured in quiet disbelief. Gods and goddesses were immortal beings that existed in a dimension above hers; their very essence was the fuel sustaining their chosen Guardians' magic. The all powerful and all mighty simply do not die.

"Forgetting is the final death, child of mine," whispered the white lady ominously; a resigned smile upon her lips. "From the East, a new God arises. People no longer believe in the Old Ways. Magic wanes."

Beautiful azure eyes interlocked with lavender. "When I finally fade away to emptiness, your magic will give way. With no magic to call forth, you will be just another mortal woman," her voice was cold enough to freeze Rukia's mortal heart.

She took another step forward; a cold hand now lying on the side of her champion's left cheek. "Now do you see how futile and daunting the task will be should you undertake it?"

Her tone was aloof and her petite Champion shuddered. "Without magic, your powers are limited. There will be no winter blizzard to call forth in the midst of the burning desert heat and there will be no magic to grant you your reprieve as you stumble about your path. You are nothing."

* * *

_A world without magic?_

* * *

XXX

Rukia simply could not begin to imagine such a place but did she really stand no chance of altering the future without it? Were her abilities so limited that she had solely been relying on her magic all along?

Her patroness continued, "I ask you now, Rukia of my blood, Guardian of my shrine, will you still be prepared to face such evil without my protection and Gift. To alter the course of events, using any means necessary or die a martyr's death."

She needed no answers. One look in those determined lilac eyes and the dying Goddess saw the young one's unwavering conviction. She nodded in satisfaction. Even in the bleakest of times, her Champion will never surrender. Not while there was still a breath of life within her body, Rukia Kuchiki, sorceress, Seeress and Blessed of the Moon will never give in.

Sighing in resignation, the lady turned her sight skywards and could see the clouds of black smoke rising from the East, the Sun was lost behind the clouds and for a long time all she could see and feel, was a sense of hopelessness and fear.

Death, she shut her weary eyes. Even immortals fear the inevitable.

_But…_

Shirayuki was neither a weakling nor a coward. Death will be met on her terms, never the other way round and the powerful Goddess would rather burn than die without her dignity intact.

With a sharp intake of breath, she summoned her last and final vision in this realm and beyond; riding out to seek Death on her own terms. Elegantly, she splayed her palm wide and from thin air, created a solid sphere of glowing light. She plunged her hand into the orb.

Her magic pulsated through the still air. Rukia's eyes widened as she felt the shift in her Goddess's aura. She whirled around; arms outstretched in a vain attempt to stop her patroness from attempting magic.

The young woman's face turned grief-stricken, tears flowing and hair flying. The Goddess was going to kill herself!

* * *

"_NOOOooooooooooooooooooo!"_

* * *

XXX

The Seeress screamed as the familiar coil of magic tightened about her. She was too late. White lights blinded her before the barrage of images and scents slammed into her senses. Her Gift went through her body like a shot of pure lightning.

* * *

_Cinnamon and sandalwood, blood and sweat; _

_Heat of the desert, chill of the night._

_A heart filled with the deepest of regret;_

_Towards the sky that births all light._

* * *

XXX

She delved deeper and soon she saw the outlines of a mortal man. A beautiful set of amber eyes shone, shifting constantly between a shade of ominous yellow and cedar brown, soon giving way to distinctive masculine features. His chiseled jaw supported the angular and slender face of his, his aquiline nose, his full lips and his hair, Rukia gasped.

He had hair the colour of the fire.

The Seeress then saw him in a burst of images. In the first one, she saw a defeated man kneeling by the side of a bed, cradling the bloodied form of a formless woman. His shadow of grief and the lingering regret choked her.

The images shifted and she could breathe easier, but by now the man had turned into a beast of war. He sat imperious on his black steed, menacing and intimidating. Like death he was cold, but in his eyes, Rukia gulped; his eyes were screaming for blood. The look in eyes, of that she would never forget.

The Seeress groaned as a quick succession of images surrounded her, but both appearing and disappearing too quickly for her to make any sense of them until she arrived at the last scene.

From whence she stood, the same man was now old and his hair no longer the bright, dazzling rays of sun. She knew he was dead, but he looked so peaceful, one would have mistaken him for a sleeping elderly. Wrinkles dotted his once handsome face but in death, he was granted forgiveness.

He was a free man once again from his guilt. Carefully, she reached forward him and placed a dainty digit on his well-defined philtrum. The touch ended her journey and she was sent barreling back through the terrifying scenes of war, past the haunting picture of the man with his lost loved one and landed back in the present.

XXX

Dark, sooty eyelashes fluttered as violet eyes snapped open. Rukia doubled over, clutching her chest; heaving as though she had been running. She seek a nameless man, beautiful but deadly; powerful but dangerous and she **will** find him when she stands beneath the sky that births all light- East.

East.

She must journey east to stop the man.

He is the Intended in her _sweven_.

Her lilac eyes met those lucid blue eyes of her patroness and she nodded wordlessly. Rukia understood what must be done, but the pained smile on her lips remained; an expression mirrored on the Goddess's face.

A lone tear slid down her graying cheek- the final act in this bittersweet parting. The goddess smiled, her words now a soothing murmur like the dying autumn breeze before they gave way to winter, as she whispered her dying words.

"My parting gift to you, my child. Save them and … Farewell."

She erupted into flames. Rukia gasped, instinctively taking a step back but the fire never spread. Blue chains of fire licked away at her lady's clothes, confided only to her form as those snaring tendrils coiled about like snakes and vines.

Brighter and brighter, the chains were now burning like embers in a fire, so bright that it was glaring while her patroness's presence flickered. Rukia shielded her eyes as the dazzling light focused and converged and then, the lady was gone.

* * *

_Shirayuki._

* * *

XXX

Liquid fire and heat seared through her veins as she awoke from her trance. Wide awake with beads of perspiration running down her back, she gently gathered her waist-length hair into a braid.

With that done, she reached for her sword, ruthlessly cutting her hair away. The Seeress threw the braided hair into the fireplace, watching emotionlessly as the flames slowly consumed her precious black hair until the strands turned to fine ashes and dust.

Rukia did not cry. Where she was going, there will be no room for added weight and no room for mistakes. Under the desert sun, her silken strands would have been a much unnecessary baggage. She grimaced, smelling like a sweat-covered beast was the last thing she wanted to do when she reached her destination. As a Seeress, she prided herself for her love of practicality over simple frivolity like hair.

Let the flames take the fine offering of her braid and may it be the last thing the hungry fire ever devoured from her.

With one last glance at the burning fire, she squared her shoulders and began packing for her journey. She would spare no tears for her now dead patroness, for now she had a vision to prevent; but when all is done, when all wrongs have been righted and all is right in her realm, then, and only then, will she mourn; for the loss of her mentor, for the loss of the life she once knew and for the loss of her magic.

* * *

XXX

It took Rukia eleven days to cross the treacherous mountains and caverns before she could see evidences of human civilization.

She had barely enough food to sustain herself for a week. When her predicament became apparent to her, it was already too late and she was already scaling the second of a series of rocky mountains.

There was simply no turning back.

When the Guardian first spotted the tell-tale signs of hearth fire, she was so excited by the prospect of a full meal that she spent the last spurt of energy she had into a sprint. Yet the sight that greeted her was not a happy one. Her lilac eyes saw only the rumbles and remnants of a city.

Smoking and burning, it had been the fumes coming from the ruined city that caught her eyes.

It must have once been a magnificent and grand citadel, its people strong, warm and very much alive. Or perhaps a glittering city with tomes of knowledge sealed within the safety of their libraries; traders with their goods, children with their carefree laughter and now it was all gone.

Now, it was a mausoleum. Death pillaged and ransacked the city, depriving it of life until all that was left of it were the broken city gates, hanging off their hinges, burnt structures with collapsed monuments and charred bodies.

XXX

The city was dead and the tiny Seeress made her way quietly through its empty streets like a flitting ghost. Her skin was already the macabre shade of white and the stench of death permeated around her. She could feel the undiluted pour of anger coursing through her blood as she clenched her fists tight.

A horrified high-pitched shriek tore through the forbidding silence and was quickly followed with raucous laughter from nearby.

The sorceress's blood turned cold, her aura suddenly flaring menacingly. Her eyes turned a scorching shade of cerulean and the last vestiges of her magic ignited at will.

How dare they!

Rounding the corner, Rukia spotted the source of the commotion. There were two men, so vile that her magic recoiled instinctively and between them, there was a defenseless woman. Her dress was torn and her face smudged with dirt. Futilely she struggled against her captives' choking grasp on her limbs, tears glistening as she saw the lewd leers from the men.

One, in the process of loosening his trousers and the other sporting a hideous grin that showed only yellow cavities; both of them, made Rukia sick to the core. Scum of the realm, her hand inched towards the hilt of her noble blade.

XXX

"Leave the girl alone," she whispered but in the quiet and abandoned streets, her demand echoed eerily. Unsurprisingly, the two men turned their attention towards her but the revolting grins remained.

If possible, their leers only intensified at the sight of the petite seeress clad in a simple white caftan with golden embellishments, dwarfed by her blue-grey mantle. They could see that there by her small waist hung a sleek sword, but truthfully, the woman looked more like a fragile china doll than a warrior in every possible way.

"And why would we want to do that, doll-face?" sneered the scrawnier of the two. He was still in the process of undressing and Rukia made it a point that of the two, his disgusting member between his legs would be the first to go.

The brute to his left piped up, "Yeah, maybe we should just make you join us." The sickening man wriggled his eyes suggestively and slurred, his hand reaching for the front of his pants, "we could show you a real good time, little gi-"

He never had the chance to finish his sentence. Before he could even blink, the 'girl' was gone and not a minute later, his partner gave a sharp squeal of pain and blood splattered onto the ground with a dull splat. The frightened woman screamed at the sight of the red fluid, blossoming like a radiant flower amongst the stark grey pavements.

Clutching the ends of her torn dress, she was gone before Rukia could even tell her to run. Rukia shifted her stance. The pure white blade in her hands reflected the sunlight's glare like a mirror and on its sharp blade, the man could see his own face etched in horror and he turned his gaze towards his partner in crime.

XXX

"Di Roy," he mumbled in shock as he saw the huge pool of blood forming from where the man's crotch used to be. The now useless organ lied a few feet away from its lifeless owner, dead from excessive blood loss.

Nakeem could have sworn the severed appendage even twitched. The sound of advancing footsteps however drew his attention back to the situation at hand. There was a vicious woman advancing towards him, she was pointing a blade at him and from the looks of it, knew how to use it quite well.

If looks could kill…

Oh fuck, he's a dead man.

"P-P-Please," he pleaded as he slowly backed away from the pint-sized swords mistress. Yellow urine trickled down the front of his pants and the brute was just too scared, to even pay attention to that.

But the look in the woman's almond-shaped lilac eyes was cold and unforgiving; there was no room for mercy and no reprieve to be granted. The woman meant business and he knew at that moment, he was looking at his killer.

His knees buckled and his back hit the brick wall as he plopped pathetically on to the hard pavement.

Rukia advanced towards the twitching man like a predator, eyes gleaming with bloodlust and wild magic shrouding her. Her vice-grip on the hilt of her sword tightened as she brought it down in a swift arc – the final end of a pathetic human, a slash to form on his throat and yet…

XXX

The blow never came; instead she was slammed against the hard wall by a colliding body, sword still firmly clutched. Her amygdaliform eyes widened and she could scarcely believe her eyes.

She was staring at the nameless beautiful man in her vision. Such a complete and vivid copy of the face in her vision right down to his flaming mass of orange strands; she swallowed thickly. His warm body pinned her against the decrepit walls and his strong grip on her delicate throat remained.

She found him. Staring deep into his brown eyes, she sheathed her white blade and murmured, "I surrender," forcing the two words out of her lips like it was poison.

* * *

XXX

"She killed my men. I demand justice. Blood calls for blood," gritted the teal-haired man hoarsely. His threatening voice rising by the hour as the cries for justice and blood grew in the gaily coloured tent.

They were in the Sheikh's tent- the largest of all the tents and the man in her vision sat on the seat of power, surrounded by his loyal tribal council- men who wore flowing robes stitched with an inlay of embellishments and loose-fitting trousers, haughty looks upon their rotund faces and she could feel their aggression rolling off in waves.

Her mouth went dry but she did not dare slouch, lest they took it as a sign of weakness. The threatening man was eying her like she was a piece of meat and she fought down a grimace.

Perched comfortably on his seat, the young Sheikh took the arguments in stride. His brown eyes remained on his petite captive. She stood before him and his council as a convicted woman who killed someone of their blood and truly, such a lengthy discussion was irrelevant. Her crimes should have made her the next candidate for death by execution.

However, she was special. There was an ethereal grace and finesse about her that he just could not get enough of. He flashed back to the sight of her deadly lithe movements as she easily dispatched his tribesmen, cutting them down like stalks of weeds.

Swift as a deer. Quiet as a shadow. Fear cut deeper than swords. Quick as a snake. Calm as still water.

She moved like fluid water, so graceful and lethal, as if she was dancing and he was her audience. The way she wielded her white blade, that peerless beauty of a sword as she slashed, that unreadable look in her violescent eyes even when she conceded; remained etched on his impressionable mind.

XXX

Now, she stood before him; ramrod straight and emotionless, standing as if she was the wronged party and defiant of her fate. Her pale, ivory skin stood out from the sun-kissed skin of the occupants of the tent; almost melding with the white silk caftan she had on, were it not for the gold-threaded runes decorating the hems of the apparel.

Her piquant face was dominated by her large appealing eyes; her nose was dainty, her cheekbones fair and her dark, sooty eyelashes splayed against her smooth cheek. Raven black hair were cropped short to her shoulders, framed her heart-shaped face. A drastic decision when most women he knew would rather die than part with their silken strands.

He decided that he liked the strange colour of her expressive eyes and while she was petite, he had detected soft, womanly curves on her sylphlike body as he held her against the crumbling wall, hidden by her formless garments. Her blue-grey mantle and white caftan with golden stitiches had hinted at opulence and power.

His brows furrowed.

XXX

Who was this intriguing woman?

He cleared his throat and when he spoke, Rukia could have sworn even the harsh desert wind faltered for the briefer of a second.

"Am I to understand, Grimmjow that your men are killed by this slip of a girl?" drawled the intimidating Sheikh as he stared deep into the eyes of his ranting cousin. There was a playful but condescending smirk upon his lips and Rukia's eyes widened slightly.

This man was protecting her?

The flame-coloured mane of his was gathered into a crude ponytail and he shifted it to the side as he slowly made his way towards the man. He stalked him like a predator, a sneer on his facial features.

"Cousin of mine, your men bring such shame upon you and I. **WE**," he bellowed, drawing the attention of the various occupants of the room, "are a warrior's clan. _Men_," he spat, "who uphold their dignity down to their last dying breath."

XXX

Cold fire burned in his soulful eyes, his disdain evident as he stared down his cousin.

The challenge was met. Teal blue eyes burned against their earthen-speckled counterparts.

"I against my brother, my brothers and I against my cousins, then my cousins and I against **strangers**," snarled Grimmjow.

His clan leader raised an impervious eyebrow. "I do not side with men who are unable to uphold their _sharaf_," he said coolly.

"_Men_ who wet their pants when faced with the sight of a girl holding a sword," he uttered as the whole of the occupants erupted in laughter. The tension in the men abated.

XXX

The lilliputian Seeress had the fortune of seeing the man turn a shade of murderous maroon so fierce, it was in danger of staining his cheeks permanently. Growling, he turned on his heel and stalked out of the tent, laughter in his wake as the rest of his clan members witnessed his disgraceful exit. Unbidden glee rose to her lilac eyes and a tiny smile crept upon the corners of her chapped lips.

A move that did not went by unnoticed. The victorious clan leader was struck by the sight of her twinkling eyes and mirthful glee. Such a simple but captivating move had lit up her face and he realized with a start that he still had not decided on the course of action to take with his diminutive captive.

XXX

"As to you, My Lady," he said and had the pleasure of seeing those startled lilac eyes locking gazes with his brown eyes. "If I may, may I enquire the land of which you hail from and your purpose here."

His query struck a chord within her. She suddenly found herself fraught with an urge to cry over the sheer impossibility of her situation. The tiring journey had taken a toll on her both physically and mentally without proper time to grieve for her past.

Should she lie? Should she be truthful?

Where did she hail from if not a broken and forgotten world of the past? The thought caused the suppressed memories to resurface and …

No, she refused to dawdle on those thoughts any more. With as much dignity as she could muster, she kept her saltine tears at bay and told a half-truth.

XXX

"I hail from a now destroyed city."

The orange-haired man nodded, yes; the destruction of her homeland, that could explain the sadness lacing her tone.

"Do you seek sanctuary?" he asked, genuinely concerned.

Rukia demurely nodded, reluctant to raise her gaze; lest the Intended saw through her deceit and tears.

"Have you a worthy profession to contribute to my clan?"

To this, she answered in a calm alto. "I am skilled in the healing arts."

A healer?

The brazen leader was surprised to say the least. With the skills she had displayed with her sword, the petite woman before him belonged in the army. But it made sense; a healer is a prestigious position in a community – her blue-grey mantle and though he was sure the mysterious newcomer harboured far more secrets than she was willing to tell, she was of no threat to his tribe.

Everyone had a secret or two to hide; he would not so cruel and callous as to deprive her of hers, but uncovering them would prove to be a challenge.

He made his decision.

XXX

"I offer you a trade. My tribe's protection and shelter for your arts and service," he said as he made his way towards the unsuspecting woman.

Rukia dipped her head low. "Much obliged, My Lo-," she murmured respectfully but was rudely interrupted when he grasped the base of her chin gently and tilted her face upwards, forcing her to meet his gaze.

Lavender irises met amber and Rukia found herself surprised by the intensity of gaze. Were it not for the sake of propriety and her guise, she would have gladly given him a kick at the spot where the Sun shines not; Sheikh or not.

XXX

"Call me Sheikh Ichigo," he drawled sensually. "You should address me as such, _My Lady_."

Rukia narrowed her eyes at his invitation; such a sly man to resort to such methods to know her name, but she accepted it nevertheless.

Allowing a slight smile to rest on her lips, she simpered. "And you may call me, Healer Rukia, _Sheikh Ichigo_."

Ichigo smirked and fought the urge to laugh. Amusement lit his eyes; with such a vivacious woman, life was never going to be a dull affair.

* * *

Author's Note:

Happy birthday, Rukia! :)

Hello again my fellow readers and friends! It's been a while I guess since I last posted anything, but now I am proud to present a **sneak peek** to my first-ever completed albeit slightly shorter than most, multi-chaptered story, inspired by **Black Sun Upon An Icy Sky**'s prompt that will posted regularly once every fortnight upon its completion.

Now, now; I know what you all probably thinking uh huh, there she goes again, making promises she can't keep, but I shall try my utmost best to keep mine for this fic. Though this one mean having me once again absent for a long long period of time in FF, which I'm sure you are all familiar with. XD

This would be the first chapter of the fic and though originally intended to be a one shot, the idea of the story had taken hold and Hese is more than pleased with the development so far.

And to dear **Empress Minea**, I'll be dropping by to review soon enough, so don't fret.

Here's a fun challenge to you all.

Be the first to spot George RR Martin's "Song of Ice and Fire" references and quotes in this chapter to get a dedicated fic from me and of course, bragging rights. XD

**Review** my pretties!


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